Chuck vs the Joys of Parenthood
by frompen2paper
Summary: As Chuck Bartowski held his daughter in his arms, flashes of the future skated behind his eyelids. This is how those flashes actually turned out.
1. Chuck vs Mobility

_**Chuck vs. the Joys of Parenthood**_

_As Chuck Bartowski held his daughter in his arms, flashes of the future skated behind his eyelids. This is how those flashes actually turned out._

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing_

**Rating:** _Varied through each chapter. T overall._

**Timeline:** _The_ _undetermined future post_ Sensory Perception.

**Pairings:** _Chuck/Sarah with mentions of Ellie/Awesome, Morgan/Anna, Chuck/Lou, Chuck/Jill, Sarah/Bryce, and Casey/Ilsa._

**Important Details:** _Everything that has happened in season 1 of Chuck has occurred and anything mentioned in Sensory Perception is fair game. This fic will chronicle the trials and tribulations Chuck and Sarah face as they juggle everything from raising their twins to their jobs both with the CIA and their covers to weird encounters with faces from their pasts._

**Alternate Characters : **

_Neil Grayson – CIA agent assigned to replace Sarah as Chuck's primary CIA handler; undercover as Charles Montgomery's personal assistant. _

_Madeline Eleanor and Landon Charles Bartowski – Chuck and Sarah's twins. _

_Davis Elliot Woodcomb – Devon and Ellie's son born a year before Chuck and Sarah's twins_

_Okay, talk about an inspiration strike. I was reading over my final draft of Sensory Perception when I thought to myself, 'wouldn't it be fun to see these flashes play out,' and wham! Instant plot line! So this story chronicles the married life of Chuck and Sarah Bartowski from dealing with Intersect flashes to the normal everyday hijinks of life. Enjoy! _

**Chapter 1**

_Chuck vs. Mobility_

Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker could be considered to be many things: one half of the best espionage team in America, CIA operatives codenamed Lancelot and Guinevere, the human Intersect and handler, one of the most epic romances to ever throw the CIA, the happily married Chuck and Sarah Bartowski, or to the more persistent media hounds, the brilliant software mogul Charles Montgomery and his beautiful wife, Sarah, a criminologist and professor at UCLA, and as Casey claimed in his times of utmost annoyance, the Pest and the Skirt. But the newest in their repertoire of labels was parents. Yep. Parents. Proud parents to the newest members of the Bartowski clan: the twins Madeline Eleanor and Landon Charles. And looking at their dark-haired bundles of joy, Chuck and Sarah knew that no amount of their CIA training, none of their past encounters with deadly individuals capable of wreaking the utmost havoc could ever prepare them for the task that lay before them: parenthood.

Even from the start, they had been slightly unprepared for their predicament. Chuck and Sarah had fully prepared for their newest adventure in their life of espionage and wedded bliss expecting a single child, and Chuck was convinced that their product of a whirlwind romance and insatiable passion was a girl. So, despite warnings from their mentors in childbirth, Devon and Ellie Woodcomb, they had stocked the nursery with various accoutrements in a tasteful shade of pale pink. However, despite Chuck's normally unerring clairvoyant tendencies, they had failed to predict the unexpected surprise that emerged into the world a mere eight minutes after his sibling: a calm, wrinkly baby boy they deemed Landon Charles after Kathleen Montgomery's father and Sarah Walker's husband.

But even with the surprise of Landon, late night feedings, teething, and the general chaos of two infant children, plus six weeks of no physical intimacy, much to the chagrin and misery of both parties in question, and the amusement of one John Casey – until Sarah responded to one particularly irritating barb with a well-placed kick to his produce section that ensured Casey a definite decline in sales as well his own form of abstinence – Chuck and Sarah had more or less survived the first stage of their twins' development relatively unscathed. But as the twins neared a year old, Chuck and Sarah faced a new territory in their venture into parenthood: mobility.

- - -

Chuck Bartowski didn't think it back then, but now, he held a gratitude for the rigorous CIA training both Sarah and Casey insisted he undergo for his own safety (and theirs) as the twins and their newly developed mobility had been running him and Sarah ragged. And as he slumped on the couch beside his wife, Chuck could only wonder where the days had gone when Landon and Madeline were such good, immobile babies who simply…stayed in place.

"God, who knew that a crawling baby could go so fast?"

Sarah cast a casual glance to her husband as he tipped over, depositing his head in her lap. "What's wrong, honey? Can't keep up with a pair of nine month-ers?"

"Hey, those kids are quick," Chuck defended. "One second, they're playing patty cake in the corner, the next they're motoring across the living room." Moaning slightly as his back protested his current position, Chuck arched up, feeling the bones pop along his spine. "I hate being tall. It's hard to chase after those little buggers when you have to stoop to catch them."

"Aw, poor baby," Sarah laughed, sifting her hands through his hair. "But you look so cute imitating a gorilla."

"Why can't they just stay still?"

"So you'd rather carry them everywhere? At least they're mobile." Sarah returned her attention to their twins, off in their own little world. "You know, I think they're strong enough to walk…" As soon as Sarah said that, their daughter caught her eye. Madeline had grasped onto a corner of the couch, hefting herself to her feet and was inching her way along.

"Chuck! Chuck, honey, look! Look at Maddie!" Sarah scrambled off the couch, upending her husband in her haste, and knelt down, arms outstretched, beckoning to her daughter. "C'mon, baby! Come to Mama!"

And with a determined sheen to her face, Madeline took one wavering step forward. One step became two. Two steps became three, until she had worked up a steady progression. Her steps took her closer to her mother until her knees buckled and she fell into the arms of her mother. Sarah lofted her daughter high above her head, pressing kisses to her little girl's cheeks, shifting Madeline to her lap.

"What a big girl you are!"

Not to be outdone by his sister, Landon made an impatient noise that caught the attention of his father. With Chuck's hands grasping his to steady him, Landon began his own jaunt forward. As he gained momentum, Chuck gently let Landon go, and his small feet puttering doggedly, marred by only one misstep which he immediately righted, until he, too, fell into his mother's arms as his sister giggled her delight, clapping her hands excitedly for her brother.

Chuck joined his family on the floor of the living room, pressing exuberant kisses to their skin in congratulations. Reaching out a hand, he ran affectionate fingers through Madeline's wispy curls and Landon's straight strands.

"They're so smart, aren't they? They aren't supposed to be walking for another month."

Sarah grinned, jiggling Maddie in her lap. "Product of excellent genes, babe."

"Yeah, that's not egotistical at all, honey," Chuck chided as he fake boxed with Landon, falling dramatically backwards as his son's pudgy fist impacted lightly with his cheek.

"We're one half of the best espionage team in America and parents to two intelligent, beautiful babies," Sarah remarked, standing as Maddie and Landon gravitated to each other. "I think we can afford to be a bit egotistical…"

"Well you got one thing right," Chuck mused. "I've got this feeling Maddie's gonna be just as gorgeous as you." Chuck huffed a suffering sigh, slinging one arm around his wife's waist. "God help me when she starts dating…"

Sarah cocked an eyebrow. "You're gonna let her date?"

"Huh, if I had my way, she wouldn't date until she was thirty, but considering her mother, I'm more than positive that's wishful thinking…" Chuck turned to his wife. "Do you think the CIA could spring for a specially-made chastity belt or would that technically fall under personal expenses?" At Sarah's slightly incredulous glance, complete with slightly cocked eyebrow and furrowed brow, Chuck shrugged. "I'm just saying…"

Sarah shook her head, highly amused as she bumped her shoulder against Chuck's. "Don't think about the future, honey, you'll drive yourself nuts. Just..." she cast a fond eye on their twins, scurrying around each other in a playful dance that amused them all their own, "enjoy this. They're not gonna stay this way forever."

"Personally, I think that's a good thing," Chuck remarked. "I don't think I could handle more than the allotted time for diaper changes. I will rejoice when the twins are potty-trained."

Sarah's brow furrowed. "So are you saying you don't want any more?"

"Of course I want more…just not until I've had ample respite from dirty diapers," Chuck glanced disparagingly at where he had slung one of his t-shirts, a sprinkling of damp spots marring the grey fabric, "and Landon's lack of aim…"

"Well, you know what they say…" Sarah murmured, a mischievous glint to her eyes. "Practice makes perfect." With a well-timed shove, Sarah sent her husband stumbling back, his knees colliding with the couch cushions. Knocked slightly off-balance, Chuck sat down hard, cocking an eyebrow as his wife swung one leg over to straddle his lap.

Grinning bemusedly, he grasped the thighs of the long legs clenched around his sides. "Are we still talking about diaper changing?"

Sarah laughed, shaking her head as her hips rolled forward. "Not even close…"

Chuck audibly groaned as his wife's lips descended down to his. Her palms roamed freely over his torso sliding into the dark strands of his hair as his snaked behind her back, fisting in the cotton of her t-shirt. A strangled hiss caught in his throat as her nimble tongue traced the seam of his lips, urging them to part. Chuck obliged, taking in Sarah's sweet taste, his hands slipping beneath her thin t-shirt, sending shivers rollicking up her back in the wake of his trailing palms. His skilled fingers were inches away from popping the clasp of her bra as the thought of setting the kids down for an early nap idly meandered through his mind so that they could steal away to practice certain…parental skills. That thought shoved itself to the forefront as Sarah became slightly more insistent, her teeth scraping the sensitive nerves of his neck.

"Sweet mother of Ronald Reagan! You two just had kids, don't you think you should hold off until these ones are actually somewhat grown?"

Chuck and Sarah broke apart at the intrusion of another fourth of their team, and Sarah sat bolt upright, surreptitiously fixing her shirt and swinging off Chuck's lap. For his part, Chuck gazed forlornly down at his lower extremities, lamenting the absence of his wife and the presence of an uncomfortable situation, and he turned an annoyed gaze to the source of the intrusion.

"Geeze, Casey, ever heard of knocking?"

"Considering I've got a situation that's threatening national security, I'm reserving the right to stop you two from further adding to your happy family." Casey shot out a feral grin that seemed to take immense pleasure in Chuck's unfortunate predicament.

"Looks like you're gonna have to take matters into your own hands, Chuckles," Casey mocked, "so to speak… Casey trailed off as his gaze drifted down as Maddie had motored her way to him, latching onto his leg. Raising his eyes to his partners, he pointed down to the little Bartowski, one eyebrow cocked.

"Either I have a growth on my leg or this belongs to you." Casey turned a sour look down to Madeline that surprisingly didn't hold as much hostility as normal, keeping his arms firmly crossed across his chest.

Laughing, Chuck bent down, scooping Madeline into his arms, quirking an amused grin at her slight insistence to relinquish her hold on Casey's pants. "Aw, c'mon, Casey, she just likes you."

Casey bared his teeth. "I don't do kids."

"C'mon, Johnny, how can you resist these big baby blues?" Chuck cajoled, hefting Madeline up to stare at the hulking man. As if she understood the her immediate purpose for being displayed before a man who could only be described as a big, growling bear, Maddie smiled, giggling in the strange melodic cacophony only an infant could muster and clapped her hands delightedly.

A corner of Casey's mouth twitched, as much of a reaction as he would bare to muster for the threat of completely melting to the wiles of a girl lacking a good amount of her teeth and sporting a few wispy dark chocolate curls atop her otherwise bald head. Chuck smirked inwardly, knowing that in the deepest areas of John Casey's interior, he really was taken with the little girl, holding a particular soft spot for one Madeline Bartowski.

"Guys, what's the hold up? I've got Graham and Beckman on the phone going bonkers trying to get us up to Hollywood!" Neil Grayson burst through the open front door, looking from Casey to Sarah to Chuck, his eyes finally settling on Madeline. Grinning, the agent gestured to the little Bartowski still squirming with delight at Casey. "Aw, check it out…she likes you, Casey…"

Casey's mouth tightened. "Shut it, Grayson."

Neil cocked an eyebrow, deliberately egging the scowling man on. "Ah, I get it. Only a real man can admit to crumbling to the wiles of a nine month-er…"

Casey only growled, his eyes narrowing at his partner. "I'm leaving now. I'll meet you outside…" Pausing at the where a set of key rings hung from a row of hooks, he snatched one set off the first hook and tossed it to Chuck with a grin. "We're taking your car."

Chuck rolled his eyes at the departing NSA agent. "I wouldn't put it past him, but I swear Casey only insists on taking the car so that he can possibly exact revenge for his original Crown Vic…"

Sarah cocked an eyebrow. "You don't think he's actually harboring that grudge, do you? I mean, you did replace it…" Chuck only shot his wife a withering glance. "Right. Dumb question. It is Casey…"

"So basically my fifteen thousand-dollar peace offering was probably for nothing," Chuck lamented.

Sarah laughed, gathering all they needed for the kids. "Well, it is the thought that counts, even if it does end in our car meeting the same fate as the original Crown Vic."

For that last bit of optimism, Chuck ventured meekly, "You think it's just because Casey just likes the Rover?"

"Casey's still surviving under a government payroll which sure as hell can't afford a luxury SUV," Sarah reasoned. "If he's not after some vengeful vendetta against you, yes, it's because he likes the car."

"Somehow, that's not comforting at all…" Chuck sighed."Well, kids, whattya say to a nice visit with Aunt Ellie and Uncle Awesome?"

As a chorus of giggles burst forth in response, Chuck nodded, bumping fists with his daughter. "Alright. Sounds good. Hopefully your cousin's gotten past his sand-eating phase because we don't want what happened last time to happen again." Chuck turned to Neil. "How long should this take?"

Neil shrugged, scratching his head. "Day and a half, max."

Sarah shifted her hold on Landon as he fidgeted slightly. "Ellie's got the early shift tomorrow, but I think Awesome's off unless there's a call. Besides, they owe us for watching Davis during the hospital's Winter Ball. Worse comes to worse, they could just drop all three off at the hospital daycare center or Morgan's."

"You know, I really do hate to say this," Chuck began, "but we really should look into some kind of sabbatical time until the kids are grown. Missions are taking a lot of time away from the kids."

Sarah pouted as they made their way to the car. "Okay, I've already been relegated to staying in the car. I seriously doubt I can handle not doing anything at all…" Sarah huffed a sigh. "But, yes, you are right."

Chuck couldn't help but laugh at the completely childish glower adorning his wife's face, and he hitched Maddie a bit higher on his arm so that he could reach out and flick Sarah's protruding lower lip. "Aw, c'mon, honey, don't look so down. It won't be forever."

"Six months sifting papers was forever, Chuck," Sarah argued hotly. "And that was just my probation. A year doing absolutely nothing would be like a lifetime of eternities. Plus, it's not too realistic to be completely away from the job."

A crease materialized in Chuck's brow. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, face it, sweetie, sometimes you flash on the most random, inane things."

"No, I…" Chuck began to refute.

"My Red Sox cap – and don't you dare classify my team as inane –" Sarah growled as Chuck smirked, opening his mouth to respond, "that time with the _other_ international arms dealer, you flashed on the toy figurine of a Smurf. The traitor in the Senate dealing war plans to the Middle East, you flashed on the yarn friendship bracelet his daughter made him at camp…No matter if we're doing absolutely nothing on a sabbatical, you're liable to flash on something that would end up in us headlining the mission," Sarah rationalized.

"Well, yes, okay," Chuck conceded, "but the bottom line is that this life," he gestured between them and to where Casey and Neil were waiting by the family Range Rover, "has to have some kind of dividing line. We can't keep putting the country before Landon and Madeline."

Chuck frowned. "And I don't see you coming up with any ideas…"

Sarah sighed. "I'm sorry, babe. This world has been part of me for so long that it's hard to…" She trailed off, the anguish blatant in her eyes. "I wouldn't trade our life for anything," she assured her husband, "but it's just so ingrained in me, I don't know exactly what I would do without it."

Seeing the uncharacteristic wavering in Sarah's composure, Chuck softened, nodding his understanding. Leaning over, he pressed a comforting kiss to her lips over their children's heads. In response, Landon giggled, his small hands reaching out to pat his mother's cheek. Sarah looked down at her son and deep into his chocolate brown eyes that held so much of Chuck in them. Without warning, Landon's features bloomed into a full-blown smile, one that promised to hold the same potent charm and subtle persuasion as his father's. As he nestled into her neck, Sarah felt a sudden bout of emotion flood her senses, and she stroked Landon's fine hairs dusting the top of his head. Even before he had emerged unexpectedly into this weird, wacky world of theirs, Landon Charles Bartowski had been a part of her and a part of Chuck. For nine months, she had protected him before his life began. And the first time he had snuggled into her arms, she promised that the innocence this job and the world that came with it dashed the first time she uncovered corruption in a seemingly government would be preserved for as long as possible in his life and his sisters. Sarah returned her stare to her husband.

"We could petition Graham and Beckman for a supplementary team," Sarah suggested. "That way we wouldn't have to always be involved in every flash." She brushed a kiss to the crown of Landon's head.

"This life isn't quite what I envisioned in my future, and these kids…" Sarah left her statement open-ended. Chuck only nodded, complete cognizant of exactly how much of a miracle the twins were considering the obstacles their parents had to overcome.

"I don't want to miss a single moment of their lives."

Chuck reached out, cupping his wife's cheek. "We'll think of something…"

Once again, Casey's voice cut through the moment, permeating through the air. "As touching as this moment is," Casey gestured to himself and Neil, already buckled up in the passenger seat, gazing at the Bartowski family expectantly, "matter of national security, remember?"

Chuck rolled his eyes, settling the kids in their car seats. "We need to get Casey a girl not in the French Secret Service…"

- - -

Chuck fidgeted slightly in the back of their limousine as Neil debriefed him on their latest mission. Dressed impeccably in yet another tuxedo, Chuck adjusted the silk square in his breast pocket while Sarah fiddled around in the very back.

"Okay, this is a software launch party held by Warehouse Electronics. Your invitation came in the mail and was inconveniently misplaced somewhere between the newest software design and the blueprints for the San Francisco office," Neil shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry. Anyway, we believe someone attending this party is looking to deal select names from the FBI's Witness Protection Program to various contacts for less-than patriotic reasons."

"FBI?" Chuck interjected. "Isn't that technically out of our jurisdiction?"

"Normally, it would be," Neil agreed. "But a few of the names are of choice men and women who dabble in nuclear codes for various countries…"

"Which makes it our problem," Casey interposed from the front seat.

"Right," Neil finished. "Since you're Charles Montgomery, we had no problem getting you in, but once you are in…"

"Find the guy, get the names, take him out," Chuck supplied. "Got it."

Casey tossed Chuck a set of cufflinks that would serve as their communication link. "I'll be with you as security detail and Grayson will monitor our progress from the truck. If things get iffy, he'll be joining in on the action." Casey pulled off to the side, a block away from the site of the party. "Graham's also cleared Walker for field duty. Apparently, it wouldn't be right for Charles Montgomery to attend one of these things without the company of his wife." Casey didn't even bother to hide his exasperation at the absurdity of the idea.

"You weren't here when he debriefed me," Sarah slid into the seat beside her husband, dressed in a mermaid style evening gown in a deep wine red, her hair flowing loosely down the low-cut back. "I believe I was referred to as the 'arm candy.'"

Chuck could only grin as he laughed, tilting his had to take in the absolute beauty of his wife. "Wow…"

Sarah couldn't help the flush from creeping up her neck as she caught the gleam of adoration and the loving smile tilting his mouth. Reaching up, she gently straightened his perpetually askew bow tie, taking the time to run her hands down the length of his chest. Chuck's grin widened at his wife's own brand of appreciation.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Casey's harsh bark sounded through the back of the limo. "Focus!"

Neil shook his head at his partners in slight bemusement, handing each of them an earpiece. "Nothing to it, Chuckster. Call it easy negotiation…"

- - -

Crouched down Chuck skidded to a halt on one knee behind an upturned table, gun drawn and at the ready. He whipped an accusing stare to Neil as the other agent rolled behind the bar area. Chuck gazed down at the main floor, where the other guests milled, completely oblivious to the gun fight going on above them.

"I thought you said this was going to be an easy negotiation!" Chuck hollered as he ejected his magazine, loading another with a deft hand.

"Newsflash, Chuckles," Casey bellowed from around the corner as he fired off a succession of shots in the general direction of their assailants, "in this business, there is no such thing as easy negotiations!"

"I know that," Chuck yelled back, "but even our standards of easy don't usually end in gun battles!" Chuck rose slightly, picking off a few of their attackers before ducking back down behind his barrier. "Fisticuffs, yes, but not a hail of bullets!"

Shouting into his wrist, Chuck attempted to contact his wife, curiously absent from the melee. "Sarah, we need an easy way out. Any ideas?" When deafening silence reached his ears, Chuck tried again. "Sarah? Sarah? Dammit!" Chuck turned a glance to Neil as he slid back behind the bar. "I can't get to Sarah. I think there's too much interference."

"Fuck this!" Casey growled as he reached into his waistband and extracted another gun. "Count of three, we're blowing through these suckers and out the door."

Casey began the countdown when suddenly a loud explosion permeated their hearing, causing all three agents to duck to avoid the hail of debris plummeting from beyond their respective barriers. The dull thump of skin on bone and the muffled groans of pain echoed through the room as below, guests wasted no time scrambling out the doors in the wake of the explosion that wracked the second floor. Wordlessly, the three men exchanged glances of confusion before peeking out, guns brandished. Immediately, all three eyes scanned the slight destruction to find one Sarah Bartowski standing amidst the settling smoke and the unconscious bodies of their assailants, hands on her hips and, despite slightly heavy breathing, looking no worse for the wear.

"Men," she huffed, dragging their targets to some semblance of a pile and handcuffing them before calling for a clean-up crew, "always doing things the hard way." Sarah gestured down at the bodies at her feet. "You guys gonna help me or what?"

Rolling their eyes, the three men moved simultaneously, holstering their weapons before obliging Sarah's request. After a few minutes, they had the unconscious crew slumped against a pillar as Sarah turned to Chuck with a cheeky smile.

"Not too bad for an analyst, wouldn't you say?"

Chuck shook his head as a barrage of NSA agents came streaming in to take the targets into custody. "It's not fair, you know," he remarked, brushing excess dust off of his tuxedo jacket and buttoning it back up. Neil and Casey nodded their agreement.

Fixing her hair, slightly mussed from the excitement, Sarah frowned at her husband. "What's not fair?"

"You always get to handle all the heavy machinery," Casey growled, just barely disguising the petulant whine as he gestured to the equipment that blew through the door. "And we're not just talking about Bartowski," he added with a hitch of the thumb.

Chuck pulled a disgusted face, wrinkling his nose. "Okay, Casey, first of all, completely uncalled for. Secondly, ew. Just _ew_…"

- - -

The car ride back to Mondo Casa Bartowski (Awesome's label) was surprisingly quiet as Team Bartowski experienced the heady surge of exhaustion following another mission.

Chuck leaned against the back window, his hand absently stroking Sarah's hair as she nestled into the crook of his neck. He could feel the tension beneath her muscles as his hand skated down to the slope of her shoulder. He could sense a question lingering just behind her lips at the way she shifted slightly in his embrace and waited for her to divulge whatever she had on her mind.

Sarah tilted her head back, looking up at her husband through lowered lashes. "Does this ever scare you?"

Chuck craned his head down to meet Sarah's slightly hesitant stare. "Hmm?"

"This…"Sarah gestured to the motley crew occupying their Range Rover. "I mean, it was different when it was just us, Casey, and Neil. We could go on these Intersect missions and not worry about anything. And now with the kids…"

"We have to worry about coming back," Chuck finished. A heavy sigh wracked through his chest as he absently ran one finger down the length of his sideburn, one of his nervous tics.

"Every day," he admitted. "The last thing I want is for our children to grow up without one or both of us. Even, God forbid, one of us does die and the other remarries. I can't stand the thought of another person experiencing the moments we both were supposed to together." Chuck frowned, his eyes returning to his wife. "What brought this on?"

Sarah was silent for a long moment before she answered. "I heard him when he threatened you Chuck," she divulged, her voice soft. "He swore that when he found out who ratted him out, he would hunt down that person and everyone he loved. He didn't suspect you, but what if someone does? What if someone found out about us? You and I both know the type of people we face will not hesitate to use the kids, Ellie, Awesome, Davis, or even Morgan against us." Sarah drew in a deep breath.

"Do you…" she bit her lip, unsure of exactly how to pose the question withering at her lips. "Do you think we'll ever get out of this life?"

This time, Chuck took his time before answering. "I think one day we'll have to," Chuck responded slowly. "But right now, we've got an obligation that we can't really back out of. Maybe one day, the CIA or NSA will find someone with the same of subliminal image recognition that I have and can pass on the latest Intersect to them. But until then, this is still our duty. As much as so many other things are more important, we still have to honor that."

Sarah barked a humorless laugh as their positions reversed. Normally, Chuck was the one who sought reason through emotions with personal sentiments serving as his fundamental basis for decisions while she rationalized decisions with the practicality of their occupation in mind.

"God, this job used to be everything to me. Now, it just pales in comparison to the life we've built together." Sarah cocked her head at her husband. "I think I finally understand how scared you were that one time with Ellie and the nuclear guy."

Chuck nodded. "When you work so hard to keep Normal World and Spy World separate, it's pretty terrifying when they inch towards the dividing line. But that is what you have to do. Protect the medium. Until the day we do get out of this life, we just have to protect the kids the best we can…"

"And you won't have to do it alone."

Sarah and Chuck glanced to the source of the assertion to find Casey's ice blue eyes peering intently at them through the rearview mirror.

Casey's normally stoic stare had a fiery passion they had only seen when the NSA agent was engaged in most harrowing gun battles.

"As much as I may have resented this assignment in the beginning, you two have become the closest thing to a family than I've had in a while, and I don't take too lightly to anyone threatening my family."

"Me, too," Neil chimed in from the passenger seat. "This has been the best assignment of my career. You guys saved me from a lifetime of pushing papers down at the field office. It's only fair that I pay you back."

"As far as we're concerned, no one is gonna touch one hair on those kids' heads and any more that you lovebirds have," Casey growled, the resolution palpable in the words. "Not without getting through us."

Sarah's eyes involuntarily brimmed with tears, and she turned shining eyes of gratitude to the pair in the front two seats. Chuck, on the other hand, practically vaulted the median with his exuberance, situating himself between the two agents.

"Ah-ha!" The uncharacteristically tender moment between the team shattered abruptly as Chuck poked his head between the front seats, one finger thrust triumphantly forward. "You _do_ like me, Casey!" Chuck's voice didn't bother to hide its gleeful delight as he waggled the extended finger. "Face it, man, after all these years, I've gotten under that robotic exterior and found the snuggly teddy bear underneath!"

Casey's eyes narrowed as he reached over with his free hand and shoved Chuck's face back, sending the other man plopping back down to the cushions.

"Don't push it, Chuckles. That was a moment of weakness that will never, _ever_ happen again." Casey's gaze flicked to their general direction. "And put your seatbelt back on. You've still got a database that won't be too useful if it goes through the side window."

Casey's words failed to dissuade his target as Chuck simply leaned back in his seat, dutifully fastening the protective device, a goofy grin across his face and his brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Casey?"

"What?"

"Just for the record, I like you, too."

"…Thanks, Bartowski…"

"No problem, buddy…"

_And cut! As you've probably gleaned for yourself, this chapter is the first flash in Sensory Perception. Not all of the chapters will follow those flashes but many are based off of them. Just to give you all a taste of where this is going, we will have the return of Bryce, the return of Carina, and the snuggly teddy bear beneath the robotic exterior of Casey all wrapped in a package that chronicles the twin's development from infants to adults. _

_The next chapter strays away from the lines of the flashes in Sensory Perception and focuses on a momentous event alluded to in the sixth chapter of Sensory Perception, but not really elaborated on: the fateful day that Chuck Bartowski cut those infamous curls and one Sarah Bartowski's reaction to the loss of her favorite Chuck feature…_

_Until then…_

_Roxy _


	2. Chuck vs the Haircut

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing_

**Rating:** _K+ for unavoidable violence to the hair follicles._

**Summary:** _Chuck Bartowski thought it was time for a change. It was a trivial change, really. Nothing monumental. Little did he know exactly how much of a reaction his decision would garner._

**Timeline:** _Two years after Chuck and Sarah are married. The twins are not born yet._

**Alternate Characters:**

_Fredrico Fausilli – effeminate, enthusiastic hairdresser a la Kevin Bacon in Beauty Shop, referred to Chuck by Captain Awesome._

_Okay, warning: this installment is not in any way meant to be taken too seriously. Do not take look too deeply into this chapter. It is nothing more than pure, unadulterated fluff and slight insanity. That will be made clear once Fredrico makes an appearance. So please, just sit back and enjoy the hijinks as Chuck Bartowski makes a seemingly trivial decision that has surprisingly not so trivial consequences. _

**Chapter 2**

_Chuck vs. the Haircut_

Chuck Bartowski looked at himself in the mirror. He poked. He prodded. He pulled. And he glared. This was not acceptable. Nothing seemed to work. He tilted his head, appraising from a different angle. Nope. That was a bust, too. Chuck blew out a deep breath. Maybe he should keep things at the status quo. It would be easier that way. He examined himself, trying to figure out an adequate reference to the feature in question. Napoleon Dynamite? Nope. Not enough bounce. Seth Cohen? Close…He _had_ been accused of scarily resembling the Josh Schwartz character on more than one occasion. But, eh, too teenybopper for someone his age. Elvis? Dude, that would be cool. Chuck struck a pose, index fingers extended to his image, upper lip dutifully curled in homage to the King.

"Chuck, honey, what are you doing?"

Chuck started in surprise as Sarah suddenly appeared at his side, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Chuck turned to his wife, a sheepish lilt to his features. Damn. Busted. He pointed a finger to the mop atop his head.

"I think I need a haircut."

Sarah scooted closer to her husband, a slight frown to her face. Leaning up, she ran a hand through his unruly curls, making sure her fingers sifted through her favorite one. She tilted her head, appraising the image before her. Sarah shrugged. "Well, it's not too long. I'm not seeing the animal shapes yet."

Chuck dipped his head, one finger drifting upward to stroke his right sideburn. "I was actually thinking something more professional…" he ventured, running a hand through the feature in question. "Y'know, something more manageable."

Sarah halted, pulling back in surprise. Her cobalt eyes held a touch of fearful suspicion as she scrutinized the man before her. "Wait…When you're saying 'haircut,' you're not exactly talking about a trim, are you?"

In an uncharacteristic move, Chuck failed to assuage her fear as he innocently shrugged. "I'm thinking of something new."

Sarah blanched, a sight that in retrospect was extremely comical but in the moment absolutely befuddling. "You can't cut your hair!" she blurted out.

Taken aback, Chuck recoiled, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "Huh?"

"You cannot cut your hair!" Sarah repeated even more earnestly.

If anything, Chuck expected an absent nod with an equally dismissive "Sure, honey, whatever you want," not this almost hostile defiance. Understandably confused, he analyzed his wife for any meaning other than what was currently before his eyes.

"What? Why not?"

Sarah ignored his question. "Why would you even think such a thing in the first place?"

"Sarah, what's the big deal about cutting my hair?"

Sarah stalked over to stand directly in front of her husband. One long elegant finger, immaculately manicured, extended out, poking insistently into his t-shirt covered chest. "Charles Irvine Bartowski, if you love me half as much as you claim you do, you are not going to cut more than the usual length off your hair."

Thrown by the conditioned response, Chuck shook his head. "Okay, one, that's ridiculous, and two, that's not fair."

"I'm serious, Chuck," Sarah urged. "If you swear by the wedding vows you said yourself, you _will not_ cut your hair."

Chuck could only gape, scratching his head in absolute confusion. "Wait, so you're seriously this adamant about me cutting my hair?"

Sarah leveled him with a stare that could only be described as a cobalt-colored laser beam. "Chuck, I have never been more serious about anything in my entire life."

"Sarah, this is insane. Are you really that mad that I'm considering cutting my hair?"

Sarah only turned smoldering sapphire eyes in his direction, the glint absolutely chilly as it bore into his gaze. With one final glare, she abruptly turned on her heel, storming away from her enormously confused husband.

Chuck sighed, raising his voice in a desperate entreaty. "Sarah…"

Deafening silence was his only response, and Chuck let out another long, suffering breath. Well…that went well.

- - -

Later that night, Chuck unlocked the front door to the house, letting himself in. Replacing his keys on the hook by the door, he trudged into his seemingly deserted abode. A quick glance at the clock showed a relatively early time of ten-thirty, but he knew that by now, Sarah would be getting ready for bed as the next day had her teaching two sections of criminology to eager frat boys who attended class more for the instructor than the actual subject.

Chuck tiptoed through the darkened rooms, careful not to make too much of a disturbance. He had given Sarah ample time to cool off from their scuffle that morning, forgoing lunch with her in lieu of even more space for his fiery wife to calm her explosive temper that only appeared when provoked. Knowing that between the pressure of her cover job – slightly more strenuous than parroting inane German phrases for customers who simply wanted grease-soaked corn dogs – had a tendency to make Sarah a bit testy during the evenings, Chuck had caught dinner with Casey and Neil hoping that even more time would dissuade his wife from possibly inflicting mortal pain. Chuck sighed. He only hoped the agony she planned on impose wasn't too detrimental to his health. And exiting the bathroom, clad in his sleepwear of a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, he found Sarah already sprawled out on the mattress of their bed. Sliding beneath the covers, Chuck reached over to turn off his bedside light before turning to the unmoving blob at his side.

"Good night, babe."

Chuck leaned over to brush a kiss across her cheek and reached out an arm to pull her towards him, his hand attempting not so inconspicuously to sneak beneath her top.

To his immense chagrin, Sarah rolled away from his searching embrace, placing distance between his questing fingers and herself. "Nuh-uh, no way, sport."

"Wha?" Chuck frowned. Despite her hardened, slightly cynical exterior, Sarah was a closet teddy bear. She loved to cuddle as much as he did. So for her to decline such an opportunity was slightly perplexing. Chuck scooted closer, perusing his wife's expression for some sort of alternate meaning.

"Honey, what are you doing?"

"You decide to make a momentous decision without my input, you're cut off," Sarah stated plainly, drawing the sheets tightly around her body.

Chuck sat bolt upright, eyes wide as he appraised the woman beside him. "You're kidding me, right?"

Sarah lay resolutely wrapped in the covers, shielding any part of her form to his eyes. "Nope."

"I can't believe you're acting like this," Chuck grumbled, stifling the impulse to pout. If there was one Chuck relished about his wife, it was the feel of Sarah cuddled in his arms after a long day. Was this change really worth it?

Sarah glared. "Just be thankful you're not on the couch…"

Chuck flopped back on his back, his arms crossed over his chest as he cast one final glance over at his stubborn wife before turning a forlorn gaze to the pillow that would have to suffice for the night. He drew out a deep breath that quickly turned into a sigh as he hugged the decidedly frigid pillow to his chest. Geeze, who knew a simple thing such as a haircut caused so much trouble...

- - -

The early morning sun drifted through the slightly cracked blinds, bathing the bed situated in the middle of the room with its brilliance. Stirring agitatedly, Chuck rolled over with a groan, flinging one arm over his eyes in an ineffectual attempt to screen his eyes from the lamination beating his fatigued eyelids. Nope. Chuck buried the impulse to pull a Sarah and extract one of her throwing knives and fling it at the sun with the hope the projectile would puncture the ball of fire and make it a bit less glaring to his eyes. Chuck sat up, rubbing his eyes. The pillow he had substituted for Sarah's warm, pliable body had provided him very little comfort in the few hours he managed to sleep, and casting a glance at the clock by his bedside showed that any more attempts at drifting off would be insanely futile. The fates seemed to mock him incessantly as to his right, his wife seemed to be dead to the world, spread across the mattress on her stomach, snuffling lightly as she burrowed even deeper into the covers. With a long suffering sigh that seemed to make its way into his emotional repertoire more and more within the last week, Chuck slid out of bed.

Puttering to the kitchen, he busied himself with making breakfast, taking a slight comfort in the filtering aroma of sizzling bacon, hash browns, omelets, and coffee. A slight shuffling piqued his as his apparently well-rested wife flounced into the kitchen clad in shorts and a Red Sox t-shirt.

Chuck slid a plate onto the island located in the middle of the spacious kitchen. "Good morning."

"Good morning."

Chuck cocked an eyebrow at the curt salutation, handing Sarah a mug of coffee laced with French vanilla as a piece offering. "I can't believe you're still mad at me."

Sarah stayed silent for a moment, alternating between sipping her coffee and ignoring her husband before slamming the mug on the counter, whirling to face him. Chuck rose up, ready for the inevitable confrontation that had been brewing since the day before.

"_I_ can't believe you're actually planning to cut your hair!" she retorted.

Chuck mimicked her movements, setting his own cup on the kitchen island a bit more gently and crossing his arms over his chest. "Sarah, maybe if you tell me exactly what's bothering you about me cutting my hair, I'd be a bit more understanding but right now, I'm just confused."

Sarah huffed out an impatient breath before looking her husband straight in the eye.

"I love your hair!" Sarah whined hotly. "It's so…_you_."

Chuck cocked an eyebrow. This amount of petulance had never been in his wife's emotional repertoire before. It was a bit bizarre.

"Oookay…I understand it's 'me,' but what do you mean by that exactly?"

"Chuck, honey, you are a nerd," Sarah pointed out.

Chuck's brow furrowed in confusion. "Babe, we established that the moment we met. That's not new."

Sarah flailed slightly, attempting to coherently convey her point. "So any other style of hair would be completely against the essence of who you are!"

"Sarah, it's _hair_."

"That's not the point," Sarah argued.

"Well, can you please explain to me your point?" Chuck exclaimed exasperatedly. "Because I am utterly and completely befuddled at why you're so against me cutting my hair!"

"It's stupid…" Sarah mumbled her eyes plummeting down and head bobbing to her chest.

"Try me," Chuck implored.

"It's just…I feel any other hairstyle would, I don't know, take away from the Chuck I fell for…"

If he was anticipating any sort of response, that answer certainly wasn't remotely close. Inadvertently, a snort of amusement escaped his lips as his shoulders shook in a vain attempt to stifle his hilarity.

"Don't laugh!" Sarah chastised him. "Field agent or not, I can still kick your ass!"

"I'm sorry," Chuck apologized, calming and regaining his composure. Moving around the island between them to place a reassuring arm around Sarah's shoulders, Chuck pressed a kiss to her temple. "Honey, mop of curly hair or not, I'm still Chuck. I'm pretty sure no haircut can change that."

"You know I don't take too lightly to change," Sarah muttered petulantly, burrowing into his embrace, "to change your hair is like the government banning weaponry."

"It's for practicality too," Chuck contested, running his hands over her arms in an attempt to placate her. "You know how hard my hair is to manage, and do you really think a potential client will take a guy seriously if his hair has the prospective to look like a product of the Los Angeles zoo?"

Sarah relented with a sigh, lofting hands in a gesture of surrender. "Fine, whatever. Cut your hair if you want. Go _bald_ if you want. See if I care."

"Apparently, you _do_ care, otherwise we wouldn't be having this discussion," Chuck felt compelled to point out.

Sarah sighed again in exasperation. "Do whatever you want, sweetie, just give me hand holds for when we –"

"Sarah!"

- - -

Fredrico Fausilli gazed down at his project the way a famished lion gazed at a helpless gazelle. Chuck resisted the urge to audibly gulp, his hands clenching at the leather arm rests of the luxury barber's chair. He never should have taken Awesome's advice, but the Bartowski's normal barber had retired a month before, Los Angeles for parts of the Caribbean. So under the impeccable urging of the ever-reliable Devon Woodcomb, Chuck found himself outside the eponymous _Fredrico's_, a far cry from the corner barber shop of his youth, and as he walked inside the posh establishment, he found himself enthusiastically greeted by an effeminate man, whom Devon claimed was Picasso with scissors. Considering Chuck's rudimentary understanding of art found Picasso's work to be just short of a geometric mess, that assertion held very little stock. He had faced down countless deadly individuals with very potent weaponry, but watching this man assess his hair in an attempt to tame the unruly ringlets, a pair of scissors grasped in his manicured fingertips, Chuck had never been so terrified in his life.

"Good hair," Fredrico declared, his fingers sifting through the curls, the scissors tapping thoughtfully against the hairs of his impeccably style goatee. "Much potential! Good coloring, very silky, very soft." Fredrico tisked slightly. "A bit messy, ya, but we fix that in a jiffy." He circled around Chuck, dark eyes sparkling with the prospect of a project on his hands. "A little tinting, some highlights…oh! Fredrico make you look absolutely _delicious_!"

"No!" Chuck yelped, too frightened to be ashamed at the rather girlish falsetto his normally deep voice had adopted. Chuck cleared his throat, steadying his tone. "I mean, I'd just like to keep it simple, if you don't mind. Just a haircut." Chuck shot out a wavering smile. "Please."

Fredrico clucked his tongue in lament. "Oh, if we must." Fredrico lay a hand on Chuck's shoulder, patting comfortingly. "You just leave the magic to Fredrico, ya?" Without anymore preamble, Fredrico brandished his scissors and a comb, lowering his hands to Chuck's head.

And as his eyes flicked down to where the first severed strands had fluttered to the floor, Chuck stifled the urge to sigh. That was easier said than done…

- - -

Chuck locked the doors to the family Range Rover, starting up the steps to Casa Bartowski. Pausing in front of the side mirror, he appraised his image and stroked his newly shorn hair nervously. Well, kudos to the Captain; Devon was right. Despite his…eager tendencies and slightly predatory methods, Fredrico Fausilli was good. Very good, in fact. Now, the problem lay in the inevitable reaction of his obstinate wife. Chuck steeled himself. This was either going to end up very beneficial…or he was never going to have sex again. Yes, the United States government seemed to have quite the vendetta against his personal life.

Chuck hovered in the foyer, gathering his wits before raising his voice, calling to his wife.

"Sarah, I'm home!"

A slight shuffling up at the third floor caught his attention, and a long pause permeated his hearing before a hefty sigh drifted in his direction. "Alright, let me see it."

Chuck cocked an eyebrow as Sarah descended the stairs slowly, one hand guiding on the banister, guiding her path, the other covering her eyes. "Babe, it's not that bad."

Sarah doggedly shook her head. "I can't look."

Chuck rolled his eyes at his wife's antics. "Sarah, you've stared down a very big Russian man with a drill that could very easily pierce bone. Looking at my haircut is not _that_ traumatizing."

With a suffering sigh, Sarah lowered her hand and opened her eyelids. The sight that greeted her quite literally halted the breath that left from her lungs. Chuck's once long, unkempt curls now swept upward into a slick array of spikes, the sides tapering down to the finer, silky strands once hidden by his hair. For the barest of moments, Sarah mourned the loss of her favorite curl, but as he dipped his head down, one finger stroking the sideburns that still extended past his earlobe, that thought perished as quickly as it materialized. His new haircut framed his face the way the unruly ringlets failed to do, bringing out his handsome features and giving him a professional manifestation that screamed of the sophistication he would need if Traversal Industries was going to take off the way profits were projected.

Chuck had shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels nervously, and Sarah couldn't help the rush of endearment at his almost youthful keenness for her approval. "Well, what do you think?"

As much as she loathed to admit it, this haircut made Chuck look…_hot_, and she inadvertently let out an approving squeak at the change in his appearance.

A corner of Chuck's mouth quirked upward in a grin. "Okay…that _sounds_ like a good sign."

Sarah descended the stairs to stand before her husband, and her hands drifted up to run through the shortened strands. Chuck's eyes fluttered slightly at the sensation assaulting his synapses. Finally, Sarah mustered enough oxygen to speak, although her voice had taken on a slightly breathless lilt.

"Well, I'm certainly glad you waited until now to try this hairstyle."

Chuck laughed indulgently as her fingers sifted through his hair. "Why is that?"

Sarah slid her hands down to his chest, fingers drumming against his pectorals. "Because if you had your hair like this when we met, I wouldn't have married you for your personality."

Chuck grinned. "Didn't know you were so shallow, Sarah."

Sarah cocked a teasing eyebrow. "Well I certainly didn't marry you for your money or your looks, sweetheart."

"And the truth comes out," Chuck lamented. "You married me for my body."

Sarah laughed as he dipped his head down, snagging her lips in a kiss. Just as she leaned in to seek more of his delectable mouth, Chuck abruptly cut off their embrace.

"Wait." Sarah stared confusedly at her husband as he drew away. "First thing's first: am I forgiven?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, nodding. "Yes, Chuck, I forgive you for even thinking about cutting your hair and actually going through with it."

"So you're not going to relegate me to the couch or make me substitute a pillow for you tonight?" Chuck pressed.

"Well, it is only noon," Sarah remarked coyly. "Don't push your luck…"

Chuck chuckled as she yanked him down to her again. As he deepened their lip lock, Sarah's hands skimmed up his torso and burying themselves in the depths of his shortened strands. Fingers clenching in the dark locks, Sarah let out a sigh of contentment at the ample hand holds, much to Chuck's amusement as he grinned into the kiss.

"Chuck?"

"Ye-ah..."

"I changed my mind. You can't ever cut your hair _now_…"

_And cut! Short and sweet. Nothing too heavy, just a nice fluffy piece to make everyone feel happy inside. However, the next chapter is a bit more substantial as we find the Bartowskis facing a problem: Chuck's having a hard time juggling Chuck Bartowski and Charles Montgomery._

_Roxy _


	3. Sarah vs the Workaholic

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing_

**Rating:** _M for make-up sex following a healthy bout of angst._

**Summary:** _Chuck's having a hard time juggling Chuck Bartowski and Charles Montgomery, and no one's feeling the effects more than his family._

**Timeline:** _Three years after the final chapter of Sensory Perception. The twins are five and Chuck and Sarah have been married for eight years._

**Alternate Characters:**

_Brian Finnegan – Owner of Lucky Leprechaun Bar and Pub where Chuck goes to drown his sorrows._

_Isabella Marie Woodcomb – Awesome and Ellie's second child born two years after the twins._

_Okay, folks, straying away from the fluff, here comes a bout of the angst. Don't be mad at me, this is an inevitable chapter. It had to come. With Chuck finally achieving his dream, he's got to be torn between reaping the complete fruition of his labor and his responsibilities to his family and the government. Well, this is exactly how it all plays out...to me. Warning, since this is Chuck and Sarah, they do make up and their make up is explicit in nature. Just a hint._

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 3**

_Sarah vs. the Workaholic_

Sarah Bartowski loved many things about her husband. First, there was his physical attractiveness. She initially fell for his deceptive good looks beneath his mop of curly ringlets and Nerd Herder uniform. But over time, he had really bloomed into quite the delectable specimen of man. Then, of course, there was the more intangible aspects. His deep brown eyes that conveyed his every emotion without façade or censor. His smile that held nothing but honesty, no pretense or deception. His innate innocence and optimism marred only by the actions of Bryce Larkin that gave her a sense of irrational hope that she thought had been dashed the moment she experienced her first deep cover assignment. In retrospect, Sarah knew that any other situation, any other circumstance, she probably wouldn't have given Chuck Bartowski a second look. But she had been given the situation and she had been put in the circumstances, and Sarah wouldn't have any other way. It was quite easy to fall for Chuck Bartowski and very difficult to refuse him when he turned that rather potent although very subtle charisma her way. However, as Chuck lately seemed to have an almost dogged dedication to his software company, Traversal Industries, Sarah was finding it extremely difficult to love her husband when he constantly wasn't around.

Engrossed in grading tests for her section of Introduction to Criminal Justice, Sarah started when she heard the sound of their front door opening and she exited the family room to find Chuck in the foyer playing with one of their two dogs, Yankee. Barely able to keep her annoyance in check, Sarah decided to forgo a welcoming pleasantry in lieu of an explanation.

"Chuck, where the hell have you been?"

Chuck lifted his head as the Border Terrier loped away, his patented grin adorning his face. What usually had quite the effect that usually ended in her reluctant acquiescence or a very late night, only drew intense feelings of irritation.

"Sorry, I was down at the office."

"Chuck, this is the third time this week," Sarah ranted. "You missed Landon's soccer game. I had to call Casey to pick Maddie up from dance lessons. What is going on?"

Chuck placed his hands on her arms, rubbing soothingly. "Honey, I'm sorry. But we finally closed the Henning's deal! In two weeks, Traversal Industries will be supplying all electronics to one of the biggest business firms in the country!"

His enthusiasm was infectious, but Sarah could only sigh in frustration as she backed away from his embrace. "Chuck, that's great, but you can't be gone at all hours of the day. I need you here. The kids need you here. I can't be two places at once, and I can't keep calling Casey or Neil or Ellie to pick up your slack."

Chuck frowned. "Sarah, I'm just trying to do my job here."

"Chuck, our _family_ is your job."

"And I'm just trying to give them the life that I never had," Chuck argued, "a life with minimal worries."

"At the expense of never experiencing that life?" Sarah challenged.

"Well, what do you want me to do, Sarah?" Chuck rebutted. "Not do my job? Stop providing for this family?"

Sarah faced her husband, squaring up to his lofty height. "Chuck, this company has grossed millions of dollars, trust me when I say that you've provided more than enough for this family."

"So what exactly do you want me to do?" Chuck pressed, hands spread defensively. "Stop being Charles Montgomery?"

"No," Sarah retorted. "I want you to _start_ being Chuck Bartowski."

Chuck halted at her words, his features showing an intense incredulity. "You know what? I can't do this right now."

"Where are you going?" Sarah demanded as he turned his back, making his way back to the entrance.

"Out," Chuck called over his shoulder as he snatched his keys from the hook by the doorway, storming out the front door.

"Chuck!" He ignored her hopping into the Range Rover. "CHUCK!"

As the slamming door cut off her tirade, Sarah turned to the second of their dogs scampered into the foyer, barking at the back of his departing owner. "Shut up, Boston!"

The chocolate Labrador only grumbled a low canine growl, turning eyes that clearly conveyed irritation as though the animal was blaming Sarah for his master's abrupt departure without the benefit of a belly rub. Sarah sighed. Yes, these were the times she really struggled with her decision to love Chuck Bartowski.

- - -

Sarah sat in the corner of the living room couch as the twins sat mesmerized by the television in the family room, oblivious to the turmoil brewing between their parents. This was quite a new feeling to the seasoned CIA operative, this feeling of disparaging despondency. Normally, Chuck was present to pull her out of any emotional funk she found herself in, but now as she lay huddled on the couch without Sarah had no idea what to do. Finally, she called the only other person who could possibly offer any kind of helpful advice.

"Hello?"

Forcing down the hiccup that came as a product of the tears that couldn't seem to disperse since Chuck stormed through the front door, Sarah cursed her voice for sounding so meek and vulnerable. "Ellie?"

There was a pause as Ellie took a second the register the person on the other end of the line. "Sarah? Good God, you sound awful! What's wrong?"

This time, a sniffle escaped from her lips as she explained their situation. "Chuck and I had a fight, and he stormed off…I don't know where he went."

There was a long sigh before Ellie answered. "Oh, sweetie," the elder doctor's voice held a touch of poignant sympathy that Sarah desperately, if not slightly irrationally, needed. "Hang on, I'll be there in a second."

Minutes later, Ellie Woodcomb appeared at the door of Casa Bartowski, leading six year-old Davis by the hand, her other arm full with three year-old Isabella Marie. Placing the kids in the family room where Landon and Madeline sat engrossed with the adventures of Woody and Buzz Lightyear, Ellie joined her sister-in-law on the couch of the living room. Immediately, her jade eyes absorbed the splotchy cheeks, runny nose, and bloodshot eyes of the woman normally so poised and composed.

"Sarah, what happened?"

Sarah snuffled in response, burrowing deeper into the blanket swathed around her knees. "Chuck came home late again, and we got into it about him spending too much time at work."

Ellie sighed. "Oh, honey…"

"I don't know what to do, Ellie," Sarah murmured, her tone taking a slightly helpless lilt. "I know how Chuck loves the company, but I can't raise these kids on my own. I need him with me. He's always been the better parent."

"Sarah, don't think like that," Ellie soothed. "You are a great mother. And I know how Chuck feels about you. He's loved you even before you realized it yourself. He's just being my stubborn, stupid little brother."

"I just…" Sarah exhaled loudly. "I can't take him not being there anymore. He needs to be with the kids not cooped up in the office. I feel that he should know our family comes before the company."

"He does," Ellie assured her. "I think that this company has just become so much more than he ever imagined that he just can't help but be so involved with it."

"Yeah, I know," Sarah sighed. Shaking her head, she let out a rueful chuckle, dabbing at her damp eyes with a corner of the blanket. "God, we've never fought about anything like this before."

"As much as I hate to say it, maybe that's a good thing," Ellie remarked. "I was going to get a little worried about you two. You can bicker like cats and dogs, but you've never actually fought it out. We'll call it…cathartic release."

Ellie reached over, placing a hand atop of Sarah's. "Look, I know this is nothing new to you, but you have to understand how much Chuck has been obsessing about this dream of his. He's wanted to own his own software company since he first understood what a computer was. And you know how he is when he has his mind set on something."

"Yeah, I do," Sarah admitted. "First hand, actually."

"Just give him time to think things through," Ellie advised. "He'll realize you're right soon enough." Ellie gave her sister-in-law a hug. "He always does…"

- - -

Chuck slumped down on the barstool rubbing one hand tiredly against his forehead. After half-an-hour of aimless driving through the streets of Los Angeles, he stumbled across the Lucky Leprechaun Bar and Pub. In the dim barroom light, his wedding band glinted from its place encircling his ring finger. Almost unconsciously, his other hand drifted up to play with the adornment, twisting it around the digit. It seemed to weigh heavy on his hand, a burdening weight. They had never had this kind of argument before. In the past years, he had never had this problem with work, always finding ample time for Sarah and the twins. But now, with the company becoming quite the global conglomerate, things were starting to get very hectic around work. But for some reason, he really didn't seem to mind. This was his dream, the aspiration he had labored so ardently and tirelessly to achieve. How could that possibly be bad?

"Can I get you anything?"

Chuck's head jerked up as a deep voice, tinged slightly with a New York accent addressed him, and he looked into the crinkly blue eyes of a very tall, very brawny man. "Just a Budweiser, please."

"Right-o." Seconds later the foaming drink slid into his eyesight. Chuck grasped the neck of the bottle, gulping down a fourth of the brew within seconds.

The bartender cocked an eyebrow. "Tough day?"

Chuck shrugged noncommittally. "You could say that."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Chuck took a swig of the bitter alcohol, stroking the sideburn extending down from his temple. "Nah, it's kinda dumb. No need to waste your time."

A husky chuckle drifted from the throat. "Buddy, I'm a bartender. Trust me when I say it's probably something I've heard before." The blue eyes appraised him closely before shining with recognition. "You're that Charles Montgomery guy, aren't ya? With the software company?"

Chuck nodded with a small grin. "That would be me…"

"Brian Finnegan," he introduced himself, thumping one beefy thumb to his breastbone. "Finn to ya. I own the place. May not have graced the cover o' _Forbes_ or _GQ_, but I can claim the title of Friendly Neighborhood Bartender." Finn braced his elbows on the counter, analyzing Chuck closely. "Now, your troubles can't possibly be work related since you, my friend, are very successful."

Chuck let out a deep breath, his fingers once again unconsciously finding the wedding band on his left hand. "It's my wife."

"Figured as much with the way you're twistin' that ring o' yours around your finger like it's a bottle cap that ain't comin' off."

"She says that I'm spending too much time with the company," Chuck divulged, the words leaving his mouth in a rush. "She's mad that I've been so concentrated on work. that it really shouldn't be a burden to take a little time off of work to focus on the family," Chuck muttered. A helpless lilt crossed his features as he played with the label of his bottle, his fingers soaking in the condensation meandering down the glass.

"I'm just trying to give them the life I never had, you know?"

"As is the plight of every parent," Finn nodded sagely. "Got three o' my own, and as much as I love this place, I hope they do somethin' beyond serving depressed souls tryin' to drown their sorrows in booze and partially stale pretzels." Finn quirked a sheepish grin. "No offense."

Chuck huffed out a laugh, waving a dismissive hand. "None taken."

"How long have you and your wife been together if ya don't mind me askin'?"

Chuck's eyes misted over with nostalgia. "It seems like forever," he murmured fondly. "She's been with me since before the beginning. I fell in love with her the first time I saw her. There was just something about her that I couldn't…let go. Even though she gave me so many reasons to."

"Sounds like you really love her," Finn mused.

"Of course I do," Chuck almost whispered, his voice lowered with fond affection. "With everything that's in me."

"So why is it such a big deal if she wants you to take off some time from the company?" Finn posed, wiping a damp mug clean.

"I don't know," Chuck admitted. "It shouldn't be, but this dream has been my goal for as long as I can remember and after finally hopping over all the obstacles in my way to finally achieve it…I don't want my life to be like it was before…"

"Before what?" Finn pressed.

Chuck thought for a moment. It wasn't a difficult question, but he wasn't sure exactly how to explain his circumstances. He couldn't say, "Before Bryce sent me the Intersect" as that was a bit more than gibberish to a civilian. Finally, Chuck answered as simply as he could.

"Before I met Sarah."

Finn nodded thoughtfully. "A lot seems to go back to your wife."

Chuck huffed out a chuckle. "That it does. It seems as though everything major in my life somehow ties to her. She's everything to me," Chuck confessed. "There's so much I love about her, so much that just amazes me.

"Like?"

"Where to begin?" Chuck grinned. "The fact she decided to be with a chump like me when she could have anyone in the world. Smiles used to be so rare with her, and the times I made her smile made me feel like everything that I had done wrong was suddenly so…right."

Chuck's tone grew soft. "Her eyes. They used to be so guarded, you know? Like she was afraid to show what was really behind them, and now…maybe it's just me, but I can see everything that she used to hide, and it's all out there without barriers or anything."

"Things must've really changed since you've met her," Finn remarked.

Chuck shrugged. "I guess. She's definitely changed more than I have." Chuck shook his head. "She's so strong, willing to defy anyone who even dares to challenge her. Even…Oh, God. I am an idiot…" Chuck's eyes grew wide as a thought dawned on him.

"She risked everything for us to be together to be able to build this life, her job, my safety. She said that her feelings for me were more important than even..." Chuck was now speaking more to himself than to the bartender before him. "She loved me before I ever was a millionaire, back when I was just Chuck, the nerd working at the Buy More."

Chuck nearly topped from the barstool as the notion festering in his mind blossomed into a powerful shock. Throwing the appropriate money on the bar counter, Chuck scrambled to the door. "I gotta go."

Brian Finnegan smirked as the lofty form of Charles Montgomery disappeared through his doorway. It was always a rewarding feeling when they got it right.

Brian cleared the half-empty beer bottle, plucking the bill Chuck hastily tossed to the counter. Hmm, a hundred. Nice. Yeah, rewarding feeling, _indeed_.

- - -

Chuck sat in the driver's seat of the family Range Rover, his phone in his hand. Apparently, word had gotten to his sister about their fight and she had no doubt come over to comfort his wife. Listening to the voicemail from the elder Bartowski saying that she had taken the twins for the night and urging him to fix whatever mess he had caused with Sarah, Chuck solidified the decision he had made at the Lucky Leprechaun. He _would_ fix this.

Entering the house, he was assaulted with a calm quiet, and he took a moment to look around at the life he had built for himself and the family. Moving to the living room, his eyes fell onto a glass case where countless photos lay displayed. His stare landed on their wedding photo before skating across the many moments frozen in time: the day the building of Traversal Industries was opened, the candid family photo of the day the twins were born. His eyes settled on the most recent picture of their family. He plucked the photo from its fellows and cradled it in his hands. His fingers traced over the outline of his wife's features and his children's faces. He stared long and hard at the photo in his hands. Madeline had his hair, the lustrous curls tumbling down her shoulders and Sarah's bold blue eyes. Even at the tender age of five, she was already beginning to show Sarah's feisty disposition and assertive qualities, squaring up to challengers with tiny fists planted on her hips and a defiant fire burning in those sapphire spheres. Chuck shook his head. His baby girl was going to be a hell raiser just like her mother and surely just as beautiful. She had already charmed her uncles, most notably evident in the absolutely complete way she had one John Casey wrapped around her tiny finger. Landon was no different. Just about the spitting image of his father except his dark chocolate hair had inherited the straight, tidy quality of his mother's, he was quieter, just as feisty as his sister but in a manner that was much more subdued. His brown eyes held the same amount of warmth and depth as the man who gifted them to him, twinkling with an intellectual capacity that would surely capitulate to the same brilliance as his father, the flecks of green emerging in the spheres when he wore lighter clothing. Where his sister had a blatant manner about her, almost blunt in its manifestation, Landon was all calm confidence and subtle charisma that came into full bloom any time he unleashed the patented Bartowski smile. It was a smile that promised legions of women both older and younger subjecting to his wiles with a breathy sigh and fluttering eyelashes. Chuck couldn't help but allow an indulgent smile to cross his features. They had so much of both him and Sarah in them. He couldn't wait to see if Landon's picked up on his perceptive abilities, or if Madeline's going to be as fiercely protective as Sarah is, or even if they have the makings of intelligence agents. And it was right there that Chuck felt his earlier revelation bloom into a full-fledged epiphany. In order to witness that, he would have to be there with the family. He couldn't do that cooped up at the office. Chuck placed the frame back to its original position. He was going to have to do this right.

With deliberate care, Chuck tiptoed up the steps and to the second floor. Reaching their bedroom, he turned the knob and slid into the room, careful not to wake the occupant of the bed situated in the middle. Sarah's long, lithe form lay sprawled against the sheets, taking up most of the bed as she was wont to do, regardless of where her husband occupied. Boston and Yankee lay cuddled at her feet. At the noise of the door opening, their heads popped up before relaxing at the sight of their master, and at finger extended to the hall, they scampered to the door, leaving their owners alone. Chuck returned his attention to his wife. The sheets lay pooled beneath her breasts, allowing Chuck a glimpse of the lavender lace camisole she was clothed in. Chuck sidled up to the edge of their bed, kneeling at the side. His eyes swept over her slumbering form, and his gaze settled on the damp splotch just beneath her cheek. He bowed his head, ashamed that he was the cause of her tears. Chuck cursed his stupidity. This was the woman who, after years meticulously constructing the guard walls that protected the very essence of her core, had bared everything to him, letting him see what no other person had been privy to and relinquished the most coveted part of her job for his love. This was the woman who stared down the director of the CIA and threatened to resign if she would be taken away from him. This was the woman who fell in love with just him. Chuck Bartowski. Not Charles Montgomery but the Nerd Herder who earned eleven dollars an hour behind a counter in the Buy More. Chuck extended a hand, cupping Sarah's gorgeous face in a reverent palm. She stirred, leaning unconsciously into his touch as her eyelids fluttered open and blinked blearily, taking a second to focus on his face.

"Chuck…"

"Sarah." Chuck reached out with his free hand, grasping her fingers in his. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot."

Sarah sat up, opening her mouth to respond. "Chuck…"

Chuck silenced her, gently shifting his thumb over to cover her lips. "No, let me get this out. You need to hear this, and I need to say it." Chuck drew in a deep breath, unsure of where to begin. After a moment, he decided to start at the beginning.

"This…job has been my dream for so long. Something that I've molded and perfected in my mind. It became a goal, and everything I did from high school to Stanford was with that goal in mind. And to finally achieve it was…" Chuck floundered slightly, struggling to adequately convey sentiments so complex, "as though everything was finally right with my life, and I realized that I never wanted that life to go back to the way things were."

"But were things really that bad?" Sarah ventured.

"No, of course not," Chuck placated her. "If I didn't have Ellie or Morgan or even Awesome, I would have given up a long time ago. But I couldn't help but feel so frustrated and angry that my life wasn't turning out the way I had planned, especially when I wasn't responsible for the way things were. So when everything finally fell into place, I guess I was trying too hard to make sure things stayed that way…"

Chuck dipped his head down, his eyes glazed to whirlpools of dark chocolate with the turmoil he had long forced down in the depths of his heart. "And I realized I was becoming the one person I swore I would never be. My father."

At Sarah's slightly confused look, Chuck elaborated. "Remember when I told you that my mother left and my father was never there?" As Sarah nodded her comprehension, Chuck huffed out a scoff. "Well, he was never there because after Mom left, he drowned himself in work. He was there all hours, skipping dance recitals, forgetting about parent-teacher conferences…" Chuck shrugged. "I guess he was using work to get away from the reality that he failed at the one thing he was supposed to do well."

Chuck scooted closer to the bed, the deep amber of his eyes shining sepia with the staunch conviction he fiercely vowed to uphold. "And I'm not gonna be like him, Sarah, I promise. I am not going to miss one moment of our children's lives because of work."

Chuck surged on as tears pooled at the brim of Sarah's eyelids. "Look, every intelligence agency gave us about a million reasons not to get together, but we defied all that. Everything we have now, we made it happen. You risked your job for me. You gave up field work for me. I shouldn't have taken that for granted."

"I was Chuck Bartowski way before Charles Montgomery ever existed," Chuck divulged, hoping his words would sway her from abandoning him the way his mother did his father. "I'm sorry I lost sight of that…"

Sarah's face had taken on a soft, tender sheen as she shook her head. "Oh, Chuck…"

"Sarah, I love you," Chuck blurted. "I love you so much. I don't need the company, I don't need the millions. You and the kids, that's all I need. I'm so sorry." Chuck reached over with the hand not still grasping hers, covering their joined palms and raising them to his lips in a final plea for her forgiveness. "Please…"

"Chuck…" Sarah's voice halted his babbling.

"Yeah?"

Sarah shook her head, her fingers stroking his cheek, her wedding band and engagement ring glinting in the dim moonlight. "Shut up."

With those words, Sarah leaned forward, grasping Chuck's face and crushing her lips to his, erasing the furrow that appeared on his brow at her command. An audible groan filtered from his mouth as he took a moment to recover from his surprise to reciprocate. She sat up to a kneeling position, raking her hands through the silky strands of his hair. Her tongue probed at his lips, and he acquiesced to her demand. Sarah's hands skated down to his neck, yanking at his tie before tossing it aside and tearing at the buttons on his shirt. Shedding the impeding garment from his shoulders, Chuck growled low in his throat as her lips attached themselves to his pulse point, sucking at the skin, sending shockwaves rushing through every crevice of his being. He rose up to stand beside the bed, yanking her closer, feeling her feminine curves and softness fitting against his hard planes and solid masculinity as she arched into him. His searching fingers tangled in the slippery silk of her camisole before he whipped it up and over her head, relishing in her shiver, their bare skin sliding sinfully together. Strong hands lifted her slightly, drawing her matching boy shorts down toned, shapely legs as her hands fumbled with his belt buckle before tugging his slacks and boxers down his hips as he joined her on the bed. Bared to each other gazes, Chuck and Sarah simply stared at one another from identical kneeling positions. The room was quiet with the only audible sound a harsh cacophony of shuddering inhales and prolonged exhales. The current of tension and intimacy rollicked between them, bringing both to an impasse that could either conclude with an ambiguous end or a cutting devastation. Chuck drew slightly away from his wife, his deep brown eyes gazing soulfully into hers, conveying an almost frantic desperation for forgiveness, and abruptly their once frantic pace shifted, slowing and softening to a tender passion building to what was sure to culminate in an explosive finish. Sarah watched as his hand drifted up to cup her cheek, his thumb ghosting over the soft skin as he craned his neck forward in the tenderest of kisses. She responded to his unspoken request with a simple movement, sliding her arms around his neck, her tongue flitting out to stroke against his bottom lip. Cradling her lithe body between possessive arms, Chuck eased them down to the mattress, his eyes never leaving Sarah's. His head dipped down, lips wandering over her toned skin in worshipful ministrations as nimble fingers traced arousing patterns across every inch available to his touch. Sarah shivered, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as each caress of his lips and hands elicited a delicious wake of ripples through her sensitized synapses. Probing fingertips wandered to more adventurous territory, questing for mutual satisfaction as his silent entreaty hovered between them. Sarah's gaze flicked upward, the keening whimper escaping parted lips as she drowned in the depths of the chocolate pools lingering in her eye line, blatant emotion bared for her consumption, and she leaned up, seizing his lips in hers, legs parting to cradle his hips between them. Their joining was tender, loving, an unspoken apology and promise for restitution, and the passion that erupted between them held an unequivocal answer that this problem hampering them was nothing more than a passing instance.

And hours later as they lay sated, curled up against one another, Sarah's head pillowed on Chuck's chest, her hands tracing random patterns through the skin, she could hear the reassurance echoing in her ear through the beat of his heart. They could get past this. They _would_ get past this.

"Sarah?" Chuck's voice, adorably gravelly as a product of their passion, filtered through her ears, and she craned her head upward to meet his eyes.

"Yeah?"

Chuck's fingers skimmed down the slope of her curves to settle on the small of her back, fingers splayed possessively. "Thank you."

"For?"

Chuck shrugged. "For taking a chance on me. For giving me another chance."

Sarah's brow furrowed as she slid upward to look him directly in the eye. "I fell in love with you, Chuck. I felt it was a chance worth taking. All of this," she waved a hand, encompassing the life they built together in one sweeping gesture, "was worth it. I wouldn't trade our life for my job ever."

He leaned up, large, strong hands cupping her cheeks in almost reverent gentleness, and Sarah shuddered as his skillful tongue swept deliciously against hers. The passion siphoned through her lips intoxicated her senses, sending a wave of bliss rushing through her body that would have buckled her knees had she been standing.

Chuck drew away, his nose ghosting lightly against hers. "We're gonna be okay, right?"

Sarah nodded, her hands covering his, her thumb playing with the platinum band adorning his finger. "Yeah, Chuck, we're gonna be fine."

A small smile curled his lips as his palms slid down to her sides. "Still love me?"

Sarah sighed playfully. "I guess so…"

Chuck's tender smile turned downright wicked at her affirmation, and he hooked an arm around his wife, shifting his weight to roll her beneath him. An inadvertent squeak escaped Sarah's lips as she found herself staring up into a pair of swirling sepia spheres. That squeak rapidly transitioned into a breathy exhale of his name as Sarah arched skyward, Chuck's nimble, practiced fingertips idly meandered a sinful jaunt from the smooth column of her neck, up and over the swell of a heaving breast, skimming along the bumps of a toned abdomen, down, down, down to…_Oh. Boy._

And the last coherent thought that flickered idly through Sarah's rapidly weakening mind as…_oh_…he unerringly hit _that spot_ was _Good_ _God, I love this man… _

_And cut! Whew…that was an emotional one, yeah? Although this fic is very fluffy and cute, there has to be the occasional bout of angst. It's only fair. After all, Chuck and Sarah are far from perfect and their past leaves very little to be desired. Anyway, I hope you liked that one. I'm kind of up in the air of what to post for the next chapter so it will either involve the return of one Bryce Larkin or will stray back to the flashes of Sensory Perception as Sarah battles Chuck's fixation with filming anything and everything. We'll see which one gets finished first…Until next time._

_Roxy_


	4. Chuck vs the Threat of Omaha

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing_

**Rating:** _K+_

**Summary:** _Bryce and Sarah always had Omaha but now that Chuck and Sarah have built a life in LA, will Omaha have more appeal than the big city?_

**Timeline:** _One year after Bryce's postcard appears in the sixth chapter of Sensory Perception. Chuck and Sarah have been married for six years and the twins are three._

_Alright, as you can see, I went with the return of Bryce. Seems to be quite the trend over here in the fandom. Now, be warned, there will be no harming of Bryce in this installment. I don't mind the character as long as he's not with Sarah, and as evidenced, Sarah and Chuck are pretty happily married. This installment is meant to be more of my take on why Bryce did the things he did and also a way for all three of them to get closure toward the whole triangle._

_Also, the twins, Morgan, and Casey make a cameo! Enjoy!_

**Chapter 4**

_Chuck vs. the Threat of Omaha_

Chuck Bartowski could honestly say that his life wasn't too bad. Sure, he had foibles just like any other man, but he also held a few certainties that the average American wasn't quite privy to. First, one thing in life was a constant absolute: death. He had to die sometime. As for taxes…well, after a certain negotiation with General Beckman and Director Graham and a few million extracted from his expendable income, that was no longer a problem. Secondly, Chuck Bartowski was certain Americans as a whole were a bunch of lucky bastards that truly personified the ideal that ignorance was bliss because with the secrets privy in his brain, it was a wonder how the citizens of the United States or other unsavory foreign characters hadn't stormed the White House in a bloody, brutal uprising. But even with the entirety of America's intelligence data being stored within the crevices of his conscious mind, Chuck Bartowski had a pretty good life. He was an internationally acknowledged software mogul in the constituency of the Bill Gates and Steve Jobs of his era. He had a gorgeous, loving wife whom he had fought tooth and nail to earn the right to love. He had two beautiful, intelligent children, and he had the support of an amazing family. Yep, Chuck Bartowski was one lucky bastard. After all, not many people could overcome a devastating expulsion from Stanford University to become as successful as he had.

Thinking about Stanford got Chuck thinking about the man responsible for his expulsion. A year ago, Bryce Larkin had sent him a postcard with three words congratulating Chuck and Sarah. Chuck took the postcard as a sign that Bryce approved his marriage to Sarah, a notion that was oddly comforting even with Sarah's resolute reassurances that he was the one she loved not Bryce. Still with this assurance, Chuck still wondered what a face to face confrontation with Bryce would entail. As quickly as Chuck thought that idle rumination, he banished it from his mind. He figured it would be quite awhile before Team Bartowski had any sort of interaction with Bryce Larkin.

- - -

Chuck glanced dubiously at Morgan as his best friend gestured animatedly to his latest pitch for a new idea for the company.

Morgan smacked his presentation board excitedly with his laser pen. "C'mon, Chuck, it's brilliant!"

"I denno, Morgan," Chuck sighed, leaning back in his chair, his feet propped on the desk as he scrutinized the pitch before him. "It makes sense, but how could you possibly engineer something like that?"

"With the power of innovation," Morgan pressed. "Look, man, just hire the best design team you can, put the idea before them, let them tinker, create the magic, and slap the Traversal name and logo on it. Done deal!"

Chuck tapped a pen idly to his forehead, brow furrowed as he contemplated the pitch. "I still don't know, Morgan. I think even this is beyond human capacity."

Morgan scrambled from his spot by the board to his knees at the foot of Chuck's desk, hands clasped in a desperate plea. "Chuck, please, man. I am begging you. Put it before a precursory team…"

Unable to deny his best friend anything, Chuck swung his feet off his desk, hefting himself to his feet. Striding over to the presentation board, Chuck allowed his eyes to sweep over the semantics of the design. He supposed it wouldn't hurt. It was a brilliant design if someone could make it work. Clapping a hand on Morgan's shoulder, Chuck nodded.

"Alright, buddy, I'll assign a team tomorrow."

As Morgan punched the air, narrowly missing Chuck's nose in his exuberance, performing a ridiculous happy dance, Chuck laughed, his attention drawn to the blinking light on his desk phone. Shaking his head as Morgan continued his awkward, slightly peculiar gyrations, Chuck connected to his receptionist.

"Yes, Joyce?"

"Mr. Montgomery, you have a visitor."

Chuck glanced up, staring at the device with mild confusion. "Did I schedule any other appointments for today?"

"No, sir," Joyce answered. "He says you know him. He says…" There was a slight static as mumbled words were exchanged. "'Although she'll always have Omaha and you'll always have Palo Alto.'"

Immediately, a sledgehammer smashed a rock to the pit of his stomach as the words rang as clear as the day they were originally uttered. Chuck scrubbed a hand over his face. "Alright. Send him in."

Chuck plucked a file from his desk, sifting through the papers before striding to the door. Perfect. He could stall. "Uh, Morgan, I'll be right back. I have to send this fax really quick."

Retreating to the adjacent conference room, Chuck gestured vaguely to the door. "Do me a favor and entertain him until I come back?"

Morgan shot him a thumbs up as he began to pack up his presentation. "You got it, buddy."

A moderately-tall man strode in, head swiveling as he took in the ambiance of Chuck's office. His smoldering, ice-blue eyes widened with unmistakable approval and awe as he took in the all-encompassing ambiance of the workspace surrounding him. Morgan couldn't blame him. Ellie had quite the eye for design and had decorated Chuck's office with a tasteful theme of deep reds, creams, and black that radiated power, professionalism, and affluence. It was quite the sight on first impression.

Morgan straightened as Chuck's visitor approached. "Hey, you look familiar…" Morgan snapped his fingers in recognition. "Buy More, ten years ago, guy from Penn who looks eerily like Bryce Larkin?"

Bryce nodded. "Yeah, that's me. I'm surprised you remembered that. And trust me, man, still not Bryce Larkin." Bryce stuck out a hand. "Paul Jamison. I used to work with Sarah."

Morgan grasped the offering. "Morgan Grimes. Nice to meet you. Sorry about that back then, it's just that Bryce was such a douche and my boy Chuck got hit pretty hard. I got kinda defensive."

Bryce took the knock with a grin and a shake of his head. "No worries. I'm pretty sure that I'd have done the same thing if it was my friend. Guy sounded like quite the douche anyway."

"He was," Morgan agreed. "And an idiot too. Anyone who knows Chuck gets that he is not a friend you want to lose."

Bryce's smile held a touch of rueful regret as he nodded. "Well, that Bryce Larkin has got to be quite the idiot."

Morgan's attention reverted to the door as the man in question strode through the entrance way. "Hey, Chuck, check it out, look who's here!"

With the seemingly odd combination of two very different cities, Chuck had quickly gleaned the exact identity of his mystery visitor. However, that knowledge still didn't prepare him for the sight that greeted him as he reentered his office. Bryce's hair was shorter, the shorn to a layered, cropped, close cut, and the rakish stubble had been trimmed to a neat moustache and goatee combination, but aside from a few physical differences, Bryce Larkin hadn't really changed. He still radiated that aura of casual confidence and suave sophistication. His smoldering, ice-blue eyes still twinkled with a shine torn between mischief and intensity. And, yes, Bryce Larkin still looked good in a suit.

Chuck cautiously approached his former roommate, the man responsible for the mess his early life had been. For all the world, Bryce looked like a business man in for a meeting in his black suit and plum dress shirt, the top two buttons casually undone. Unconsciously, Chuck ran a hand down the black and silver checked tie dangling from his neck.

"What are you doing here? I thought…"

"Ah, yeah, the higher ups transferred me from DC. Apparently it's a job only _Paul Jamison_ can handle…I thought I'd stop by and see my _old co-worker_ and her husband."

"That's great…Paul," No one noticed the slight stumble in Chuck's voice. "It's good to see you." His next words held an immeasurable amount of intent.

"I'm sorry Omaha didn't work out."

A corner of Bryce's mouth quirked slightly in amusement as he shook his head. "No problem." His words were chosen with purpose.

"Seems that LA had much more to offer."

Morgan glanced from Chuck to "Paul," understandably lost in the odd conversation. Shaking from the stupor with a jerk, he clapped a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Hey, man, I gotta book it. Anna's got something planned for tonight and she threatened like...extreme fatality if I'm not there."

"Yeah, Morgan, no problem." Chuck gestured to the pitch on his desk. "I'll send those plans out tomorrow."

"Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it." Morgan shifted to their third companion, sticking a hand out. "Nice to meet you, Paul."

Bryce smiled, shaking the offering. "You too."

As Morgan exited through the office door, Bryce allowed himself to take another precursory glance around Chuck's office. He shook his head. Not too bad, Chuck. Not too bad at all. Returning his attention to Chuck, Bryce wasn't surprised to see the taller man gazing upon him with blatant curiosity and confusion. Bryce shot out a grin hoping the gesture would slightly assuage whatever anxiety Chuck held.

"Well, look at you, man!" Bryce ran an eye over the black dress shirt and gray slacks adorning Chuck's frame. "Business attire suits you."

Chuck ignored the comment, too perplexed at Bryce's presence to elicit any welcoming pleasantries. "Bryce, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, took down the last of the Fulcrum operatives about three years ago…been taking a vacation ever since," Bryce divulged candidly, his hands stuck casually in his pockets. "Nice office, dude. Really gives off a 'rich and powerful' vibe."

Chuck shook his head, once again avoiding Bryce's attempts at small talk. "That doesn't explain what you're doing _here_."

Bryce shrugged. "I felt I owed you an explanation before I move on. Ten years ago, didn't really get that chance what with between you almost getting captured by Fulcrum, me heavily medicated and unconscious for the most part, me getting shot by Casey…again, and you getting shot by me."

Chuck huffed out a barking chuckle. "Yeah, well, hate to break it to you, Bryce, but you owe me many explanations for many different things."

"Well, then take your pick," Bryce offered. "Start wherever you want."

Chuck strode to the couch situated against one wall of his office, sinking into the plush leather seat and motioned for Bryce to join him.

"Okay…let's start at Stanford. Why get me expelled? Surely there had to be some other way other than getting me kicked out of school."

Rubbing a hand over the top of his head, Bryce sighed. "No, Chuck, there wasn't another way. If you would have stayed at Stanford, you would have been hunted down as though you assassinated the President. Fleming told me himself, recruits like you don't just fall into the admissions office, and barring some sort of invalidation of your test scores, there was no avoiding it. Either way, at the end of graduation, you'd be with the CIA."

"So you get me kicked out of Stanford to save me from the CIA," Chuck gleaned. "Lotta good that did."

Bryce laughed, nodding his head. "Yeah, you just had to screw up my brilliant plan. I had the best intentions, I swear. I know the way I went about it wasn't ideal, but I'd rather have you hating me then you getting sucked into this life."

"And Jill?"

This time, Bryce's face tightened painfully, and Chuck couldn't help but notice the presence of absolute shame coursing through his dubiously-classified friend's features. Bryce dipped his head down, swallowing hard.

"You had to make a clean break from Stanford, Chuck," he divulged softly. "That meant attachments…all attachments. Anything keeping you there would still have made you a viable target for Fleming. I'm sorry, man."

"Wow, when you go, you go all out," Chuck joked weakly. "But I get it. I mean, I wish there would have been another way, but…I do get it, and thanks."

Bryce leaned back against the back cushions. "Look, I never meant to break you down so bad, Chuck. I just…" Bryce uncharacteristically stumbled for words. "I just didn't want you to lose who you are. I mean, you know exactly what you give up doing what we do. I thought if you got caught up in all this, the Chuck you are would get lost." Bryce gazed up at his old friend with an almost fierce intent. "And there aren't too many Chucks around. The world shouldn't have to lose one when it can be avoided."

Slightly thrown at Bryce's confession, Chuck didn't respond, and the two men sat in comfortable silence. Chuck scrutinized his old friend for a very long moment before continuing with the final question that had plagued him for the last decade.

"What did you mean when you said to Sarah 'We'll always have Omaha' at the Buy More?"

Bryce didn't look too surprised at the query, so his silence wasn't one of shock, just careful contemplation.

"Without getting into the logistics of our own personal code phrases, I was giving Sarah a chance to come with me. You know, reinstate our partnership in more than one way. Apparently, as you stated so eloquently, Omaha just didn't have the appeal LA did."

Bryce cocked his head at his old roommate. "Things really worked out for you, didn't it, Chuck? Even with my interference?"

The smile that bloomed on Chuck's face was genuine in its affection and sincerity. "Yeah. Got the dream job, got the girl. Even the two-point-five and white picket fence."

Bryce smirked. "You didn't have room for any pets?"

Chuck returned the smirk, holding up the appropriate fingers. "Two dogs. Boston and Yankee."

Bryce couldn't help but laugh at Chuck's familiarly steadfast affection for the Bronx Bombers, many of their conversations concerning baseball sparking a debate between his Yankees and Bryce's New York Mets. "I'm surprised Sarah's affinity for the Red Sox wasn't a deal breaker."

"Well…I suppose I can ignore this one offense," Chuck confessed. "After all, the Yankees've knocked the Sox out of the playoffs three of the last four years."

Bryce grinned. "Her lucky playoff cap not working?"

"She burned that thing two years ago when the Red Sox lost the Series in a sweep," Chuck replied with a self-indulgent sigh. "It's the lucky playoff beanie, now."

"Mr. Montgomery, your wife's here."

Chuck blanched at Joyce's distinctive voice filtering from his intercom. Dammit. Sarah had quite the habit of popping in without notice of any sort, most of the time disrupting whatever meeting he was currently in and providing quite the distraction for the countless men ranging from barely out of adolescence to middle-aged who had only seen the likes of her beauty in the pages of magazines. At the thought of his wife and Bryce in the same room, Chuck blew out a deep breath. This could be possibly detrimental to Ellie's meticulously constructed design of his office.

"Err…tell her…" Chuck floundered helplessly before shrugging, going for the truth. "I have her ex-boyfriend, former partner, and former fugitive in my office, and I'd rather avoid bloodshed when the cleaners aren't coming for another day."

"…Yes, sir."

Bryce cocked an amused eyebrow. "Does that really stop her?"

"Of course, not," Chuck answered glibly, "but I do have to try."

Not seconds after, the steady rhythm of clicking heels on hardwood preceded a wave of flowing blonde hair and amused oceanic eyes as Sarah Bartowski swept into her husband's office.

"Nice try, babe, but normally, you're a bit more creative than that." Sarah stopped short at the man beside her husband, who waved amiably. "Oh…"

Sarah turned accusing eyes to Chuck who held his hands up in surrender.

"You weren't kidding."

Chuck shrugged unapologetically. "Nope."

As Sarah's eyes narrowed with a purpose bearing down on him with intent, Chuck retreated to the relative safety behind his desk, warding off his wife. "Hey, I _did_ warn you!"

Sarah rolled her eyes, fists planted on her hips. "Every time I come in here, you normally feed me some wildly outrageous, insanely outlandish story –"

"That's the times you actually stop by reception instead of just barging in!" Chuck countered playfully.

"Yeah…well… how the hell was I supposed to know you were actually serious this time?" Sarah accused.

An understandably confused expression crossed Bryce's features as he gestured between the two Bartowski's "Uhm, does this happen often?"

Chuck brushed the question with a dismissive way of his hand. "No!"

"_Yes_!" Sarah emphatically refuted, shooting her husband a glare complete with cocked eyebrow and dubious expression.

"Er…_sometimes_…" Chuck amended with a roll of his eyes.

Placated, Sarah turned her attention to the man she hadn't seen in almost a decade. "Nice to see you, Bryce. What exactly are you doing here?"

"Bryce, who's Bryce?" Bryce threw out a grin. "_Paul Jamison_ decided to come and see his old co-worker Sarah Walker and her husband."

Chuck groaned as yet again, the red light flashed on his desk phone and the cheery voice of his receptionist rang through the atmosphere of the room.

"Mr. Montgomery?"

"Goddammit" he grumbled. "This is why I set up appointments! So everything is _organized_ and my ass doesn't get surprised like this." Slightly drained, his finger jabbed at the button. "Yes, Joyce?"

"You have a call from New York. It's a Mr. Nathan from the design team."

"Ah, yes. I'll take it in the conference room." Rotating to his companions, Chuck shot out a sheepish grin at the only other appointment he had actually scheduled that day. "Excuse me, guys. This should only take a few minutes."

As Chuck disappeared to the adjoining conference room, Bryce shuffled slightly. He gazed up at his former love, hesitancy radiating from his posture.

"Well, it's nice to know Chuck's been doing well for himself."

"He's resilient," Sarah stated warmly. "Even after being beaten to the lowest of low at Stanford, he's managed to make quite the life."

"Yeah…" Bryce let out an awkward chuckle at the not so subtle dig at his expense. "So I hear you two are married. Congrats."

"Thanks. We got your postcard."

Bryce couldn't help but smirk. "Who would have known that the CIA's best deep cover operative could be domesticated by a Nerd Herder?"

Sarah quirked an eyebrow. "You know as well as I do Chuck has a certain charm about him that's very hard to ignore let alone try and avoid attraction to."

"Yeah, I do," Bryce admitted with a rueful grin that screamed of simpler times where optimism and wistful dreams of the future overshadowed jaded realities and the cold, cruel real world. "Witnessed it countless times in college."

Bryce huffed out another chuckle. "I really should have guessed that professional obligation wasn't the only thing tying you to LA."

"As much as I didn't want to admit it then, yes, you're right," Sarah admitted. "I forced myself to plead professional obligations, but it was Chuck." Sarah's voice softened fondly. "It was always Chuck."

"Did you still have feelings for me back then?"

Sarah paused. Their conversation was straying into dangerous territory, and she wasn't sure she was comfortable with that. Still, she answered diffidently.

"Honestly, Bryce, I didn't know what to think. I was just starting to realize that my feelings for Chuck were much more dangerous than I intentionally thought. You just sent me on the biggest emotional rollercoaster I've ever been on. I wasn't in control, and you know how I feel about that. It was just a confusing time, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," Bryce murmured. He seemed to hesitate before surging forward with a question that seemed to have lingered on his tongue for the last decade. "Did you ever love me?"

"I believe at one time I thought I did," Sarah divulged truthfully. "But I don't think I knew what true love was. Not the kind Chuck and I have. What you and I had was passion. It was fun. It was sex. But it wasn't what I know love can be. You could have left me, and I would be able to move on. I'd cry, yes, shed a few tears, punch a few walls, but I'd be able to move on. If Chuck were to leave me…" Sarah shook her head. "I don't know what I'd do."

Sarah huffed out a chuckle. "It wouldn't be pretty, that's for sure."

"You know, it's funny," Bryce remarked. "Chuck said I always got the great girls, but in reality, I never could really keep them. I'm not really built that way. But Chuck…when you have his loyalty and his love, you have it forever."

Sarah smiled. "Only an idiot would even think of doing something to jeopardize that."

Bryce grinned. "That Bryce Larkin must really be a moron then. Good thing Paul Jamison's a bit more shrewd."

"You know, so much of me is seriously holding back from decking you for all that you've put Chuck through."

"You wouldn't be the first," Bryce murmured contritely. "I only did it to…I denno…preserve the things about him that were innately Chuck."

"You underestimate him," Sarah disclosed softly. "He's been at this for over a decade now, and he's still the man I fell in love with even with the all the unsavory knowledge he holds."

"You do realize that most of it is in part to you, right?" Bryce countered. "He didn't have you back then."

"No, he didn't," Sarah admitted. "But Chuck's different. He's sure of himself, leaps and bounds more than either of us is. Even with all you've done to him, he's amazingly been able to maintain his optimism." Sarah pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"I think, yes, part of him would have become jaded, but that's unavoidable. But I think, ultimately, Chuck would still have been the same man he's always been."

Bryce didn't respond, only ducking his head down, shaking it in an almost incredulous amusement. Sarah frowned at the display.

"What?"

Bryce laughed. "It's just…" he grinned. "You've never shown this much introspection on anyone. Even our targets." His expression turned almost teasing in its hilarity.

"Chuck's really gotten to you, hasn't he?"

"I love him," Sarah answered simply and firmly. "He showed me things I had forgotten in doing my job. He made me see the appeal of a normal life. No one had ever done that. Not even you." Sarah peered closely at her former partner and lover.

"You gonna be okay?" Sarah extended an authoritative finger. "And don't lie to me, Larkin. I can still read you like no other."

Bryce seemed to gather himself before nodding. "Yeah. It's not easy to get over you, Sarah Walker, but I'll be fine. Chuck deserves all the happiness he can get after all I put him though. And so do you."

Sarah smiled fondly. "Well, whattya know, underneath that badass CIA exterior, Bryce Larkin's a softy…"

"You know as well as I do Chuck has the uncanny ability to worm his way into any soft spot."

"I do," Sarah agreed. "Just look at Casey."

"No hard feelings?"

"None at all…" The tone of voice held a hint that Sarah wasn't just talking about their conversation.

Sarah hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. The embrace they shared held nothing but platonic affection and an understanding that closure had finally come. They had both moved on, and although one had advanced slightly further than the other, that was the way things would stay.

"Bryce, back away from my woman or I'm gonna have to show you just how well the CIA trained me."

Sarah and Bryce broke apart to find Chuck striding back into the office, his grin on his face, the teasing jab holding no suspicion or insecurity, rather only amusement as evidenced in the frivolous sparkle tinting his amber eyes.

"What, Chuck? Afraid I'm stealing your wife away?"

Chuck snorted. "You? Please. I'm pretty sure Sarah's partial to guys whose heads extend beyond her immediate eyesight."

"Ouch, Chuck, that's a low bl…" Bryce hung his head, closing his eyes with a pained expression as a snort of laughter escaped from Sarah's lips. "Dammit."

He turned to his former partner with a sigh, blatantly ignoring the widening of Chuck's grin. "I walked into that one, didn't I?"

Sarah shrugged unapologetically. "Yeah, you did. That was pretty bad even for you."

Bryce groaned. "I'm losing my touch," he bemoaned. "Nearly a decade in deep cover, avoiding human communication, and I can't even match wits with the likes of Chuck anymore."

"Don't disillusion yourself, buddy," Chuck scoffed with a smirk. "You never really could."

Sarah leaned back against her husband's desk. "So what are you gonna do now?"

Bryce shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "I denno," he answered thoughtfully. "Find me a girl, see if I can settle down, get my own white picket fence and two-point-five."

Bryce grinned. "We'll see how normalcy suits me."

"Have any idea where?" Chuck ventured.

"Oh, nowhere near you guys, that's for sure. I think Casey's still fighting the urge not to put a bullet through me." Bryce frowned slightly, his eyes scanning the room. "Where is Casey, anyway? I thought he was your security detail. Personally, you've got to be overpaying him. For all he knew, I could have barged in here and dangled you from your dress shoes out the window."

Chuck laughed. "Hey, I've been trained well. I can hold my own. Plus, if that was your intent, do you really think Sarah would let you within a two foot radius of me with the Electronic Headache One and Two still embedded in my brain?"

"Good point," Bryce conceded. "You really think Casey'd really be that tweaked if I settled here?"

Chuck cocked an eyebrow. "You really wanna test that theory?"

"No," Bryce agreed. "I've been shot twice by John Casey, both times with the intent to kill. In my book, that's two times way too many."

"Hey, hey! Found these monkeys haunting outside office. I think they belong to you."

All three occupants turned to the door as a deep, growling voice, oddly boisterous and addled with laughter crashed through the doorway, and John Casey entered, the Bartowski twins dangling from various limbs. Casey stopped short when he saw the very familiar figure lurking in Chuck's office. Primal instinct propelled Casey to reach for the gun secured in his shoulder holster, but protective instincts to the bundles held beneath one arm and slung over his shoulder quelled that impulse. Casey settled on a deep glower, complete with growl number two (feral with a tinge of dangerous intent) as he bared his teeth.

"Larkin?! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Casey!" Chuck shot a scandalized look to the NSA agent. "Mind watching the language? I have two impressionable three year-olds hanging from your person."

Casey had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry." Turning his head, he addressed his two packages, jiggling them amidst their giggles. "Don't you two be repeating that. Got it, monkeys?"

"Yeah, yeah, Uncle Casey! Yeah, yeah!" came the affirmed chorus.

Casey dipped down, placing his two on their feet, smiling in the barely there manner only he could muster as they scrambled into the arms of their parents.

"I've gotta go check in with Graham and Beckman about fiscal budgets, but Grayson's in his office if you need anything."

Casey paused at the doorway, one finger pointed to his longtime thorn in his side, his eyes gleaming fiercely. "Harm these kids in any way, I will tear you limb from limb and feed you through a meat grinder after these two are done with you."

Bryce held his hands up in surrender as Casey stormed back out the doorway.

"Guess that Casey won't be attending the house-warming party…" Bryce mused. He turned his attention to the pair encompassed in Chuck and Sarah's arms. "So who do we have here?"

"These are the twins," Sarah introduced. Pressing a kiss to the curls tumbling down the elder Bartowski twin's back, Sarah turned her daughter to face her former partner. "This little girl is Maddie."

"And this little man is Landon," Chuck supplied. "Kids, say hello to Mr. Br…er, Mr. Paul."

Madeline held out her tiny little hand, big blue eyes solemnly gazing at the man before her. "Hello, my name is Madeline Eleanor Bartowski."

Landon mimicked his sister's actions, extending his own hand. "And I'm Landon Charles Bartowski. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Paul."

Thoroughly amused, Bryce shook each offering in turn, inclining his head in salutation. "Nice to meet you both." He turned teasing eyes to his former partner. "Good to know they haven't gotten their manners from you, Sarah."

Sarah only glared. "You're lucky I'm holding my child, Larkin," she warned.

Mentally, Bryce took a step back and looked at the image before him. He had to admit that Chuck and Sarah made quite the handsome couple, Chuck's lofty height providing the perfect counterpoint to Sarah's own tall stature in a way he never really could, being only an inch taller. He looked to the latest additions to the Bartowski gene line. Landon and Madeline rounded out the picturesque reflection of the happy family, both inheriting Chuck's dark hair and a bit more of that Walker sparkle he had witnessed countless times, and Bryce couldn't deny that the sight of Sarah Walker with a child in her arms wasn't the attractive picture. For a fleeting moment, Bryce wished himself in Chuck's place, holding his and Sarah's children as she bestowed affection the way he always knew she possessed but almost never showed. But that moment remained fleeting as he caught the shine of absolute love in those cobalt spheres as Sarah turned her gaze to Chuck. That sight halted Bryce's fantastical ruminations as he realized Sarah had never shown that much blatant emotion in all their time together as partners and lovers, never behind closed doors and not even with him. It was humbling, and right then and there, Bryce knew the Sarah Walker with whom he had shared countless adventures was lost. Gone was the stoic, mission-oriented, and dedicated CIA agent with no Achilles' heel to hinder her operation and in her place was the warm, affectionate mother who now held two very potent weaknesses. Even with that vulnerability, Sarah Walker…Sarah _Bartowski_ was as alluring as ever, but Bryce knew she would never truly be the Sarah he knew and loved. Not anymore.

Even with his revelation, Bryce couldn't begrudge Chuck and Sarah. He knew how easy it was to fall for the beautiful blonde. Hell, he had fallen victim to her charms himself, and Chuck's genuine and natural geniality was very hard. Odd pairing or not, they complemented each other, and had Bryce really thought about it, he would have known they were perfect for one another. Bryce took another look at the Bartowski family. They had both moved on from him. It was time for him to do the same.

"Well, I should get going," Bryce announced. "I've got a life to fabricate."

Chuck grinned as Landon yanked playfully on his tie. "It was good to see you, man."

Sarah nodded her concurrence. "Don't let a decade pass before you see us again, Paul."

Bryce nodded with a smile. "Never could stay away from my two favorite people, anyway." With a smooth turn, he strode to the glass doors of Chuck's office. Placing one hand on the handle, Bryce paused, rotating back to his former roommate and friend.

"Oh and Chuck?" Bryce's smile grew downright mischievous. "I forgive you for stealing my girl…"

Chuck only shook his head, eyes twinkling good-humoredly. "Turnabout's fair play, pal."

With a final swish of suit jacket, Bryce Larkin disappeared, leaving the Bartowskis to gaze after him. As the twins fidgeted, Chuck and Sarah released their children, allowing them to scurry away to the small play area Chuck set up in the corner of his office.

Watching their children settle into their play area, Sarah sidled up to her husband, her arms slipping around his neck. Leaning back slightly to gaze upwards into the sepia spheres just beyond her immediate eyesight, Sarah cocked her head, smiling lightly.

"So I'm your girl, am I?"

"Damn straight," Chuck declared with a smirk. As Sarah quirked an eyebrow, Chuck shrugged.

"What? Am I violating some feminist manifesto by stating so?" Chuck teased. "Because I'm pretty you've staked your claim on me countless times."

"Oh, you are surely mine," Sarah assuredly. One arm sliding down to his chest, she slapped the muscle beneath playfully. "And don't you ever forget it Mr. Bartowski…"

Sarah smirked. "Do you think you won that little pissing contest you had with Bryce?"

Chuck's features adopted an innocent glint. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mrs. Bartowski."

"Uh-huh…" Sarah remained unconvinced.

"'I'm pretty sure Sarah's partial to guys whose heads extend beyond her immediate eyesight?'" she recited. "Don't tell me you threw out that knock just for old time's sake."

"Okay, okay," Chuck conceded. "So I felt the need for a little male posturing, but can you blame me? This is Bryce Larkin we're talking about. I never was the smooth operator he was."

"And that's one of the things I love about you," Sarah argued, her palms framing his cheeks, fingertips stroking tenderly. "I don't care you aren't suave or smooth. You're Chuck. Charming, genuine Chuck. That's who I fell for, and that's who I love. Surely you know that by now."

"I do," Chuck assured her. "But seeing Bryce again…it was like those feelings of inadequacy came up again. Back at Stanford, he was the charming cad and I was just the nerdy best friend girls overlooked."

"Well this one didn't overlook you," Sarah murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to his mouth. "And this one just so happened to choose the nerdy best friend over the charming cad."

Chuck's face split into that smile of his as he embraced his wife, his large palms spanning up her back. "The one time Chuck gets the girl…"

Sarah's arms slipped down to Chuck's waist. "Think that's the last we'll see of Bryce…I mean, _Paul Jamison_?"

Chuck laughed, shaking his head. "Naw, I doubt it. After all, you still have Omaha…" He leaned in to claim another kiss when a shriek caught his attention.

"Mommy! Daddy! Landon stole Mr. Monkey-Pants!"

"No, I didn't," came the emphatic rebuttal

"Yes, you did, you doo-doo head!"

"No I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!"

"Didn't!"

"Did!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

As their two children faced off, hands on hips, glowers surely inherited from the Walker end of their genes, Sarah lay her head on her husband's chest, burrowing into his comforting smell as she felt his chin nestle into her hair. Sarah let out a contented sigh.

"Trust me, Chuck, Omaha has nothing on LA."

_And cut! Next up, we will be going back to the Sensory Perception flashbacks as Sarah battles Chuck's fixation with filming every aspect of their lives, before straying over to Chuck's battle with a rather formidable foe, and Carina's return. Stay tuned!_

_Roxy_


	5. Sarah vs the Goddamn Video Camera

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing_

**Rating:** _K+ for the unsightly demise of electronics._

**Summary:** _Sarah Bartowski hated video cameras. It was an aversion that stemmed from even before Sarah Walker ever existed. So when Chuck Bartowski accumulates a fixation for filming anything and everything, Sarah is pushed to the very limits of her sanity. Lord help the camera…_

**Timeline:** _Just before the final chapter of _Sensory Perception_. Chuck and Sarah have been married for five years, and the twins are two._

_Okay, first of all, let me say that I'm so so so so so so so SO sorry about the delay to this chapter. First, I was debating over posting this chapter or a chapter that centered on this year's NBA Finals(that actually will be coming later in Parenthood), then my computer decided that it would be awesome not to work anymore…Much to my chagrin, the idiots of Best Buy's Geek Squad did little to nothing to rectify my problem, so I have been without a computer and have resorted to sharing my roommate's. Needless to say, I'm back for now, but I don't know how fast I'll be able to get chapters out._

_But for now, here is the latest installment of Parenthood for your reading pleasure. It's not as heavy as the last few, just some sugary fluff for everyone. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 5**

_Sarah vs. the Goddamn Video Camera_

Sarah Bartowski could appreciate technology. After all, it was the government's technology that led her to her greatest technological asset: her husband, Charles Irving Bartowski, the Human Intersect. She used her iPhone religiously (that picture of Casey bound and gagged to the hotel bed? Priceless.) and carried around her laptop as though it were one of the twins. And, of course, there was her husband. The very pinnacle of one Charles Irving Bartowski's nerdiness was his complete and utter servitude to the wiles of technology. With the government funding his now-multi-billion dollar corporation, Chuck found himself able to fully reap the benefits of that fixation. As he fluctuated into the territory of his Charles Montgomery persona, it was very rare to see him without his trusty BlackBerry in his palm or not at the helm of his laptop, jotting down ideas for the latest Traversal venture, and, of course, there was the absolute monstrosity that was the Bartowski home entertainment complete with a full range of the latest gaming systems and advanced copies every video game imaginable able to be utilized to its full potential on the forty two-inch, high-definition, surround sound plasma television.

However, if there was one medium of technology Sarah could claim to have a slight – okay, more than _slight_ – aversion to, it would have to be in the realm of video cameras. Looking back, she supposed the source of that potent dislike could be traced all the way back to her Kathleen Montgomery days. Her father, Landon Montgomery, had a die-hard propensity to film anything and everything in sight, an affectation her mother laughingly obliged. The Montgomery family den was filled to the tops of shelves with tapes of home videos depicting moments like family vacations, Kathleen's first steps, Luke's championship lacrosse game, and Kristina's dance recitals. Sarah remembered the fun times when they would watch those home videos, poking fun at the way Luke mugged the camera and her father's occasional shoddy handling. She remembered her mother's bright smile and big blue eyes pushing the lens away as her father cajoled her from behind the camera. But what used to be fond reminders of the good times as Sarah's mother succumbed to a long-fought battle with leukemia. That bright smile seemed to dim and those big blue eyes lost a bit of their spark. Somehow, those home videos rapidly lost their appeal. And as Kathleen Lisa Montgomery became Sarah Kathleen Walker, she carried on that aversion to her new persona, luckily one that seemed to accommodate her distaste. After all, a camera wasn't exactly a spy's best friend.

All that changed, however, the moment Sarah Walker became Sarah Bartowski because technologically-manic Chuck wouldn't be technologically-manic Chuck without a fondness for the video camera. She supposed it began as they planned their wedding when Chuck pleaded for a budding director buddy of his from his high school days to film the ceremony and reception, 1) to save money and 2) for the sake of posterity. Although hesitant at first, Sarah eventually acquiesced (after a bribe of multiple servings of Ellie's famous seven-layer dip and two nights of a Chuck Bartowski special home-cooked dinner), and looking at the finished product, she was glad that she did. Chuck's buddy had captured all the moments that had flown by with the adrenaline and general rush of sentimentality that had taken her away during the ceremony in an artistically beautiful video. Everything that she had only caught glimpses and snippets of, from Chuck's sniffles as he said "I do," to their first dance as man and wife to the Goo Goo Dolls' "Iris," to Morgan's and Ellie's respective speeches, found its way onto the video, a memory Sarah would truly cherish as much as the ones she did her mother. Little did Sarah know, but that one indulgence to a video camera would give way to an incident that seriously tested Sarah's fortitude and patience with her lovable husband.

- - -

Sure, Sarah Bartowski had been relegated to an analyst position for a good half-decade, but she found the old adage that "old habits die hard" to be rather true. Still armed with accelerated reflexes and heightened senses, Sarah couldn't say that the possession of those particular sets of skills was a bad thing, especially with a pair of particularly rambunctious twins. But at eight in the morning, when all she wanted was the feel of the comfortable cocoon of cotton she was currently encased in, those senses were much more of a hindrance rather than an asset. Even with the fog of unconsciousness marring the full range of her senses, she still felt the bed dip under an unknown weight and heard the quiet snicker rumbling through an unknown throat. Immediately tensing under the covers, she poked one eye out from the sheet. Immediately, Sarah's eyesight was filled with a pulsing red light connected to a protruding flat screen, firmly attached to the large palm of her husband.

With a horrified shriek, Sarah ducked back beneath the covers, a muffled squeal of protest emitting from her mouth.

"CHUCK! What the hell are you doing?!"

The low, rumbling snicker grew to a full-blown chuckle as Chuck hovered over his wife, attempting to wrestle the covers from her grasp.

"Aw, c'mon, honey," he chided teasingly. "Smile for the camera! Let me see that beautiful face."

Sarah groaned as her face found itself exposed to the early morning sunlight with one swift tug, and she batted his hands away. "Call me crazy, but for the life of me, I can't remember ever purchasing a video camera."

"I know! Isn't it great?" Chuck gushed, casting a beaming glance over to the device in his palm. "Sony sent over an advanced model as a thank you for developing it."

"Well, if you want your model to stay fully functioning, you might want to get it out of my face," Sarah growled, burrowing back under the covers. "Because if you don't, I will not be responsible for the actions with the knife currently within my grasp…" She peeked up at Chuck through her satin sanctuary. "You do not want a replay of the alarm clock incident."

Chuck's lower lip immediately slid outward in a pout as he clutched the camera protectively to his chest. Shaking his head, he stroked the camera lovingly. "Geeze, let's go, Herbert. Looks like Mommy's having a bad morning."

Sarah only growled, flinging a pillow at her husband. Barely flinching as the projectile smacked into his face, Chuck smirked wryly.

"Apparently a _very_ bad morning…"

- - -

Sure, Sarah loved technology and everything that came with it, but with Chuck's recent obsession with filming anything and everything with his new favorite toy was seriously piquing her knife-throwing reflexes. At first, his enthusiasm was adorably endearing – just as Chuck tended to be – but as what started out as another one of Chuck's adorable quirks became increasingly exasperating, Sarah started to remember exactly why she hated video cameras, especially once he popped in with that damned camera:

_**At her work…**_

After a good few years, Sarah had gotten accustomed to lecturing to a class full of college students. She could admit that, at first, it was a bit unnerving that two hundred-plus eyes were trained on her every move and listening to her every word. Okay, granted most of that attention was hardly because her Power Point slides of early criminologists' theories were immensely enrapturing, but as a former deep-cover agent whose primary objective was to blend into the background, having so much attention on her was still a bit unsettling. But, she had gotten used to it, and now, she could honestly get through the lecture without immediately jumping on the defensive, hand automatically reaching to her lower back where her Colt used to be perpetually holstered every time one of her students came in late through the back door. Yes, Sarah Walker had just gotten a bit soft…

Standing at the head of her Criminology/Criminal Law course, Sarah aimed her laser pointer at the screen, clicking over to the next slide. Shifting to face the slightly smaller class of just over one hundred, Sarah began her lecture.

"…And so, Merton's Strain Theory centers on the concepts of two basic structures. The first structure is culturally assigned goals and aspirations that include the material and non-material things that we want out of life. The second structure states all the societal-acceptable means of achieving the goals and aspirations like obeying laws, pursuing and education, etc. So, for society to function normally, there must be a balance between those aspirations and the means by which to fulfill those aspirations. According to Merton balance would occur as long as the individual felt that he or she was achieving the culturally desired goal by conforming to the 'institutionally accepted' mode of doing so."

Sarah nodded as a hand shot up by the back. "Yes?"

"Does that mean you're highly unlikely to commit a crime because your husband is, like, an uber millionaire?"

Sarah laughed good-humoredly, the tinge of irony going unnoticed by her students. "It's actually funny you said that, Mr. Richardson, because it leads to my next point. Although this theory is very good for explaining urban crime, it has difficulty explaining white-collar crime. Why is that?"

"Because those people who commit white collar crime don't have the same motivation," came the answer.

Sarah nodded, enjoying the triumphant feeling in her chest when something other than her ensemble of the day got through to her students. "Excellent! Exactly." Sarah directed her next comment back to the student who originally asked her the question. "And, no, Mr. Richardson, you don't have to worry about seeing me led away in handcuffs."

Sarah smirked to herself. Of course, they didn't have to know about the docking port she, Chuck, Casey, and Neil were probably going to break into tonight to stop the shipment of highly illegal chemicals to a vigilante group in Northern Ireland, but that was a bit of a moot point. She trailed off from her as she spotted an all-too familiar red light blinking from just beyond her classroom door, and with a forced smile, she returned her attention to her students.

"And we'll leave it at that for today." She raised her voice to be heard over the din of chaos as the class rushed to pack up. "Read chapter five for next week, and I'll post supplementary notes and readings online for Friday's exam."

As she stayed behind to answer a few questions from some straggling students, Sarah caught her husband sidling into the classroom, nodding in greeting to a few students who knew him, the now permanent fixture in his palm mercifully closed. Nodding a farewell to the boy in front of her and rolling her eyes at the breathy whispers following a group of girls commenting on Professor Bartowski's "hottie of a husband" and how lucky she was to "come home to that every night," Sarah began stuffing her lecture materials in her bag. As he slid in beside her, she glanced up, gaze slightly weary.

"Chuck, what are you doing here? I still have one more section to teach and I thought you had a meeting with that Japanese designer."

Chuck waved off her comment with a blithe hand. "Short meeting. He said he wasn't ready with the preliminary designs for the new project." He shot out his most charming grin. "And I just wanted to stop by and see you in action."

"And you thought it fitting to bring the camera?" Sarah ventured, pointing to the offending device. "Campus security might have mistaken you for some deranged creeper."

"Aw, c'mon! Everyone knows me here," Chuck countered charmingly. "I'm capturing it for posterity. The kids will want to see their mother in action, doing what she does best, according to government sanction."

"That's what 'Take Your Kid to Work Day' is for," Sarah quipped wryly. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, a gesture that was getting way too common in her emotional repertoire for her liking, she shooed him away with a slight push to the small of his back. "Just wait in my office. I'll meet you there when I'm done."

Accepting the kiss he pressed to her lips, Sarah let out a sigh as his lofty fame disappeared out into the hall. Damn fool was lucky most of campus security and her colleagues knew him through either the mass media or personal interactions. She would hate to think what Graham and Beckman would do if their top intelligence field agent and asset was arrested on charges of stalking. Sarah hefted another heavy sigh. She wondered what would do more damage: a twelve-inch knife blade or a .45 ACP caliber bullet…

_**At his work…**_

Sarah had a serious case of the Mondays. Ever since Chuck had made her watch Office Space for the dual purpose of experiencing "comedic gold" as well as a "remarkable example of Strain Theory" that he argued could be used in lieu of a lecture in her Criminology course, she had latched onto the phrase as a rather accurate description of the perennial down cast feeling she equated with the day that began her work week. However, she supposed there was a good thing that came out of Mondays: her weekly lunch date with her husband, a tradition they started back during her Wienerlicious and his Buy More days.

Strolling through the lobby of the Traversal Industries building, she gave a warm salutation to Chuck's secretary, Joyce, stuck her head through Neil's doorway, thanking him for picking up the kids last Wednesday, and caught Casey just as he emerged from the men's room, warning him of her presence in case he needed to enter Chuck's office for any reason.

Leaning against the doorway to his spacious sanctuary, his lean frame situated at his desk in the middle of the room, Sarah found herself extremely relieved to find his stupid video camera nowhere in sight. Thoroughly engrossed in whatever he was working on, Chuck had his "work face" on – brow slightly furrowed, eyebrows drawn together, eyes narrowed, and the tip of his tongue poking slightly out from the left corner of his mouth – as his right hand clasped the mouse, moving it about the pad while his left hand poked at the keys.

Sarah approached him from behind, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Leaning down, she pecked him on the lips before sliding into his lap. Chuck grinned in return, anchoring her down with an arm around her waist.

"Hello."

Sarah returned his grin, the absence of the camera he had named Herbert drastically improving her mood. "Hello, yourself. What are you working on?"

Chuck's smile widened, and he pointed to the monitor. "See for yourself."

Sarah's gaze followed his finger, and she cocked an eyebrow at the website displayed. "YouTube?"

Chuck nodded emphatically, practically bursting with excitement. "Yup! Morgan and I set up an account and put up the videos we shot with Herbert."

The cloud that had hovered ever since the emergence of the personified inanimate object that had now become the bane of her existence, came with a vengeance. Now feeling the Mondays resurface with doubled vigor, Sarah stifled the urge to groan. Sifting through the motions available in her current state, Sarah went with sarcasm as she cast a pointed glance to her husband.

"Excellent use of company resources, Chuck…"

He shot out an adorable grin, one that almost made her annoyance dissipate. Almost. "Well, maybe I'm overstepping my bounds, but I'm under the utmost authority that the Boss Man will let this one slide."

Sarah frowned. "Isn't that an abuse of power?"

A corner of his mouth tilted skyward. "Well, considering that I own the company and am responsible for all its resources, I'd say it's just within my job description." He threw his arms out in a gesture of exuberance. "Besides, you have to see how awesome these videos are!"

Chuck practically snatched up the mouse, clicking over to his user profile (under the handle "NerdHerdzBitch") and selecting the first video. Sarah diverted her attention to the screen, apprehension marring her features. For his part, Chuck practically bounced on his seat as the video loaded, music blaring from the speakers and accompanying words scrolling up from the bottom of the screen.

_A long time ago (Okay, last Tuesday) in a galaxy far, far away (Fine, two blocks south of Euclid)…_

_The galaxy is in chaos as the forces of the evil corporation MoreBuy has brought the Empire to its knees. _

_With its commander, Commodore Tangy, the once majestic Empire Plaza is now reduced to a slum of misery and despair_

_It is up to the rebel armies of the noble VersTrans to defeat the forces of Tangy and restore peace and prosperity to the Plaza. _

_Led by their fearless leader Commander Grimes of the Nerd Force, can VersTrans save the day and bring balance back to the galaxy?_

_This is…_

**NERD WARS!**

Sarah watched as Morgan and Chuck showed off the full extent of their collective nerdiness, leaping and battling with collapsible toy lightsabers, their gestures exaggerated and ridiculous. As on-screen Chuck succumbed to the blade of on-screen Morgan, tumbling to the ground in an exaggerated tangle of limbs, Sarah rolled her eyes, sliding off his lap and making her way to the door. Entranced with the drama playing out on his monitor, Chuck barely registered the lack of his wife's presence until she was almost down the hall.

"Sarah? Honey? Sarah, come back! You're missing the best part!"

_**When she really needed him…**_

Initially, Sarah had laughed when Chuck grumbled to her his woes about the state of their now-mobile twins. But as their mobility had evolved into a state of competent efficiency, she could see his point. It was hard enough to chase on twin – Maddie was quicker, but Landon was much more slippery – but chasing both was damn near impossible, and with her wonderful, reliable husband absolutely nowhere in sight, the task of corralling the twins for their evening bath lay solely on her shoulders.

"C'mon, Landon," Sarah pleaded as Maddie squirmed in her hold, "come to Mama so we can rub-dub." Landon ducked under her reaching hand, scrambling away and clearly enjoying the game they were playing, his little legs motoring away from her grasp. The agitation showing on her face, Sarah raised her voice, shouting out through the house to her husband.

"Chuck! Get over here and help me with the twins!"

"Be there in a second!" came the thankfully responding voice somewhere from the den. Sarah audibly breathed out a hiss of relief as Chuck came trotting in…with Herbert in hand. Utilizing a deftness that made her want to smack him very hard, Chuck stooped down, snatching Landon up with one hand and settling the younger Bartowski on his hip. For his part, the little boy, a spitting image of his father, save for the straight tidiness of his dark chocolate locks, clapped in delight, giggling at the murderous look adorning his mother's face and the large raspberry his father was blowing into his stomach.

"You giving your mother a hard time, bud?"

Landon shook his head. "Nuh-uh, Daddy."

Chuck mock glared at his son. "Are you sure?"

Landon nodded solemnly. "Yes, Daddy."

Ducking down, Chuck blew another raspberry into Landon's stomach before swinging the camera to face his son. "Alright, if you say so! You ready for rub-dub, little man?"

Landon's little face lit up with excitement as he patted his father on the cheek. "Yeah, yeah, Daddy! Yeah, yeah!"

"What about you, Tigger?" Chuck directed to his daughter, using the nickname Awesome bestowed on Maddie when she had a phase that quite literally had her bouncing around the house. Maddie waved at him from over her mother's shoulder, curls boucing with each step up the stairs.

"Yeah, yeah, Daddy! Yeah, yeah!"

Reaching the master bathroom on the second floor, Sarah herded the twins over to where the tub was already teeming with sudsy bubbles. Putting Landon down, Chuck hovered over his family, Herbert out and humming, filming the chaos as Sarah grappled with the twins' clothing, chasing the half-naked pair in a haphazard game of Ring around the Rosie. Finally winning their heady battle, Sarah unceremoniously dumped the still-squirming duo into the bathtub and glared over at her beaming husband.

"Are you gonna help me anytime soon?"

Still smirking, his eyes fixated on the bedlam manifested on his flat-screen display, Chuck's spiky-locked head bobbed back and forth in a negative shake.

"No way. This is way too entertaining to miss."

Opening her mouth, ready to form a scathing response, Sarah found her tirade mercifully interrupted as a bubble-laced wave washed over her, sending her recoiling back. Glowering balefully down at the thick suds now smothering her upper body and face, Sarah blew a bubble-coated strand of hair away from her eyesight. Turning a pointed scowl to her husband, Sarah spoke in a soft, controlled voice teeming with obvious intent.

"Charles Irving Bartowski, unless you want the Mini Intersect down there to be lonely for the next millennium, I suggest you put down the goddamn video camera and help me out. Now."

Chuck froze, gulping audibly as the camera wavered on his wife's carefully-schooled face. His eyes flickered from his precious toy to his most precious anatomy and back again, visibly indecisive. Clearly deciding that the activities of the "Mini Intersect" were of the utmost priority, Chuck wordlessly shut the display screen, switched the camera off, and knelt beside his wife by the bathtub. Palpably pouting, Chuck reached over to rub shampoo through Maddie's hair. They were silent for a moment with Sarah reveling in her triumph when Chuck's petulant whine cut through the quiet.

"Just so you know, I resent the 'mini' part."

Sarah laughed, leaning over to press a reassuring kiss to his lips. Propping her chin on his shoulder as his wounded pride exhibited itself plainly on his face, Sarah winked. "Don't worry, babe, there's plenty of room in that Intersect for all _my_ secrets…"

- - -

Hours later, with the twins bathed, clothed, and fast asleep, and Chuck snoozing after a bout with Chuck's other Intersect, Sarah stirred slightly from her position on his chest. Lifting her head, she glanced up at the dresser where the current bane of her existence lay idle. With a wicked smile, Sarah allowed one hand to slide beneath her pillow…

Chuck's eyes flew open as he thought he felt a rustling pique his senses from the Sarah's side of the bed. Glancing down, he found his wife dozing blissfully on his chest, one arm slung around his waist and a small smile of satisfaction playing on her lips. Chuck shrugged and drew her tighter into his embrace before drifting back to a peaceful slumber.

- - -

The next morning dawned with bright radiance and bathed one Sarah Bartowski in its wonderful warmth. Stretching contentedly, she turned, snuggling into the crook of her husband's arm, and glanced up to find him watching her, an amused smile curving the corners of his mouth.

"Morning."

"Good morning." Sarah returned his smile and greeting, rotating her head from where it rested on the curve of his shoulder to steal a kiss from his smiling lips.

"Sarah, honey?"

"Yeah?"

"Care to explain why Herbert has a twelve-inch blade protruding from his center?"

"Let's put it this way, Chuck, Herbert is classified as a serious threat to the Intersect's security…"

_And cut! Once again, I apologize, but luckily, with the awesomeness that was the premiere, I have a few plot bunnies spawned and ready to be written. Depending on what rush of story I get first, I'll either post another chapter to Parenthood that centers on a very dangerous adversary to Chuck and Sarah's marriage: the soccer mom. I'm going to have a bit of fun with this one as Chuck battles some unwanted attention and advances and Sarah battles jealousy…and the urge to unleash the deep-cover operative. Or, I'll post a one-shot I've been playing with that has the premise of a 'five things' fic. This particular one will be about five (maybe first) dates Chuck and Sarah don't complete and one that they do. But we'll see. _

_Until next time!_

_Roxy_


	6. Chuck vs the Soccer Mom

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing_

**Rating:** _T for a whole lotta innuendo._

**Chapter Summary:** _Sarah has never been insecure about her relationship with Chuck. Of course, that was before the haircut, the millions, and the body. Now Sarah finds herself with quite the formidable foe: the Soccer Mom…_

**Timeline:** _The twins are ten, Grady is four, Shane is two._

**Alternate Characters:**

_Grady John Bartowski – Chuck and Sarah's middle child born six years after the twins._

_Shane Morgan Bartowski - Chuck and Sarah's youngest child born eight years after the twins._

_Katrina Wolfe – single soccer mom who has a lust for Charles Montgomery. _

_Maximilian DeSoto - business entrepreneur suspected of attempting to deal American intelligence. _

_Gabrielle DeSoto - Maximilian's wife. The mark._

_My apologies for the delay, but here is the sixth chapter of Parenthood. For all of us completely irked with the last episode, here is a nice bout of Chuck/Sarah established relationship goodness with a side of Sarah-induced smack down on the hussies that threaten that! Hope the mission is interesting enough, not to good with that kind of thing, and enjoy!_

**Chapter 6**

_Chuck vs. the Soccer Mom_

Sarah had to admit that Chuck Bartowski was an extremely handsome man. Granted, his good looks weren't in the classical sense the way Bryce possessed, or the All-American style of Awesome, or even in the brutish, masculine way of Casey, but Chuck Bartowski was very good looking. He was tall, well over six feet, and surprisingly strapping despite his rather lanky build. His hair was a rich dark chocolate and had a luscious curl to it when he felt the need to grow it out, his jaw line - although not quite as sculpted as Casey's - was strong. His eyes…Sarah had spent hours simply analyzing the depth and warmth of those brown pools of chocolatey goodness. There was no need to elaborate any further. And then there was The Smile. That smile was devastating in its effect, and when coupled with that Chuck charm…needless to say, she had been persuaded many a time by that dual armament.

But of course, he wasn't without his faults, one of them being that he was woefully unathletic. That, of course, manifested itself in the numerous times he tripped, stumbled, or just plain ate it in his haste to get away from the current baddie chasing him. So when it became apparent that the human Intersect was going to become a permanent fixture in the structure of the United States government, the first order of business became to train the Intersect so that his potential demise would not be of his own accord. If Chuck Bartowski had been relatively unathletic before his bout with the Intersect, he had to remedy that particular predicament mighty quick if he wished to stay alive in his occupation. So, with the sanction of the higher ups and under Sarah and Casey's authority, he had begun training with everything from weights, to agility, to self-defense techniques, to basic weaponry. And of course, with both Sarah and Casey as his trainers such intense training had warranted excellent results. His lanky body could now be described as leanly muscular, defined and corded, much to his wife's delight.

Ever since their conception, birth, and subsequent evolution to mobility, Sarah had wondered if the twins would be graced with her complete control of her appendages or Chuck's lack thereof. Fortunately, their twins inherited a natural athleticism from the Walker side, as evidenced in their various activities ranging from gymnastics (much to their parents' chagrin as they began flipping off the furniture), football, karate, and soccer.

"Geeze, Mom," Madeline's voice brought her back to the present and away from the ruminations of her husband, "you would think that the other dads would give Dad some kind of challenge. He's running circles around everyone out there!"

Sarah laughed her agreement as she watched her husband. Long gone were the days where Chuck would trip over his own feet if he moved at a pace faster than walking. His training and field experience now gave him a stealth and refinement that classified his movements agile and athletic. Although he still had his moments of bumbling inelegance, as evidenced in the slight skid marks on the rug in the foyer of the house where he pitched into the banister last Wednesday, Chuck was certainly a long way from the man who tended to experience the full extent of gravity's pull. Now, he moved with a cross between Sarah's grace, Casey's power, and his own natural dexterity, and was currently scampering around the field with the zeal of the ten year-olds he was playing with.

And as she watched her husband pass the ball off, Sarah found she wasn't the only one noticing Chuck's now-defined thighs and legs flex as he ran, his jersey top straining against his broad chest, as she heard a breathy whisper sound from her right.

"Good Lord, Charles Montgomery makes attending these stupid things worthwhile."

Tracking down the source of the voice, Sarah's eyes narrowed as she pinpointed the speaker, Katrina Wolfe, surrounded by her gaggle of giggly goons. One of the few single moms in the league, Katrina Wolfe was notorious for her shameless antics towards the fathers in the league, unattached or otherwise, and her main target: the man known only to his peers as Charles Montgomery.

Katrina blathered on, unaware of the attention she was garnering from the one person she probably least wanted to hear her. "That wife of his sure is lucky. Handsome and loaded? I mean, sure, Charles Montgomery may be a bit of a geek, but I can count billions of reasons to tolerate that." A throaty giggle tittered in response. "Plus, I can only imagine if the outline of those muscles beneath that jersey top and those shorts are as hard and defined as I think they are..."

Sarah could feel her blood boil as Katrina Wolfe continued to ogle her husband as though he was a million-dollar piece of meat. That familiar tingle began to work its way through her body, and anyone who knew the intent of that tingle knew to back away very slowly. It was the tingle that piqued the urge to reach for her Colt or a very sharp throwing knife – whichever was closest. However, with Shane in her lap, Maddie snuggled into her side, and Grady blocking her path to her purse, completely immersed in his PSPX2, she seriously had to stifle that urge. She cast one more carefully-schooled glance over at the conniving she-devil seated just within throwing distance. Katrina Wolfe would live to see another day.

A gleeful shout permeated her murderous thoughts as Maddie leaped up from her spot at her mother's side, almost upending Shane in her exuberance, waving her hands in the air.

"Mom, look, Dad and Landon are on the break! GO TEAM BARTOWSKI!"

Sarah glanced up just in time to catch her husband streaking down the sideline as he corralled the ball at midfield. Cutting on the inside of a fellow father, Chuck hopped over an outstretched leg. From the far wing, Landon shook his defender with a well-timed juke. Cutting through the middle, he knifed through on the inside of the center back, one arm outstretched, calling to his father. Chuck swiveled at the sound, swerving around the left midfielder, and a quick glance upward targeted his son before he swept his foot forward, chipping the ball in a high arc. Landon sprinted in from outside the box, going airborne with a perfectly timed leap. Thrusting his head forward, Landon's chocolate locks intercepted the ball, deftly knocking the sphere past the goalie's outstretched arms and into the corner of the goal.

Sarah's shout of happiness was lost amidst the accompanying cheers of the crowd, but all could hear the triumphant bellows of Bartowski father and son as they vaulted into an exuberant series of back handsprings that took them down the sideline before flipping to a halt at midfield. Sarah laughed as her husband stumbled slightly on the landing, recovering enough to scoop Landon up onto his shoulders, loping across the field, arms extended just as the referee's whistle sounded signaling the end of the game.

Sarah beamed as father and son, practically identical in appearance, filed through the line, shaking hands with opponents. From afar, it was clear from whom Landon got his looks, and as Chuck and Landon reached the end of the procession and trotted towards them, Maddie broke away from her mother and charged towards her father.

"Daddy!" Bearing down on him with a flying leap, Madeline pounced on Chuck, squealing as he swung her onto his back, falling playfully as Landon added his own weight. Not wanting to be left out, Grady joined in on the melee, tackling his father around the waist, leaving the Bartowski family wrestling on the ground in a tangle of long arms and limbs. Sarah watched from the sideline, a huge grin on her face as the happy hollers and giggles permeated the air, and Shane added his own input to the Bartowski mosh pit with excitedly clapping hands and a wide, gapped smile.

Acquiescing to his situation with an "Uncle!" muffled from his position face-down on the ground with Madeline straddling his lower back and Grady and Landon each holding an arm captive, Chuck succumbed to the impeccable team of his twin ten year-olds and his four year-old son. Clear of flailing limbs, Sarah waded through the untangling appendages and stooped down to grab Landon up in a bear hug, trying to press a kiss to the tousled strands of his dark-brown hair.

"Great game, superstar!"

"Mom!" Landon ducked out of the way of his mother's seeking lips, casting an irked look around to see if any of his teammates had caught the obvious display of affection.

Amused at his scandalized tone at the idea she would even fathom to administer affection on him with so many spectators, Sarah backed away with a laugh, hands lofted in surrender. "Alright, alright, I get it. The hero of the game is too cool to be kissed by his mom."

Landon shot out a grin that had yet to reach its full Bartowski potential. "Darn skippy." He poked a thumb into his breastbone, puffing his chest up in an exaggerated display of masculinity. "I do have a rep to protect, you know."

He trailed off as a group of his teammates caught his attention and shot a pleading glance to his mother. Sarah rolled her eyes and acquiesced with a hitch of her head. Landon pumped a fist and scampered off to his friends, but not before Sarah grabbed him up and snuck a kiss to his cheek.

Giggling at the agonized cry of "Mo-om!" that trailed in his wake, Sarah turned her attention to her husband as he swung Maddie down from his shoulders. The eldest Bartowski gazed up at her father with bottomless blue eyes.

"Daddy, can I use your phone to call Uncle Awesome and Aunt Ellie? They wanted to know about the game."

"Sure, kiddo. Just take care of my phone, okay?"

Maddie nodded, turning to the blanket where Grady had meandered back, plopping himself down with his PSP again. "Yes, Daddy."

He turned to his wife. "What, no congrats for me? I did make the game-winning assist…" Chuck leaned in with the intent of claiming his reward when a hand braced on his chest halted his forward progress. Glancing down at the barrier between with slight confusion, Chuck cocked an eyebrow at his wife, confused at the blatant rebuff.

"This is a first…"

"Uh-uh, babe," Sarah rebutted with a shake of her head. "You are sweaty and gross."

Chuck smirked. "I distinctly recall an instance during grappling yesterday where you did not mind my sweaty self one bit…"

Sarah laughed. "That was different, and you know it! Here," she tossed him a clean t-shirt and a towel, "put this on, towel down, and maybe I'll think about it."

"And your true intentions are revealed," Chuck chided. "You just wanted to see me shirtless."

Sarah grinned, but didn't refute his statement. As he tugged off his jersey, Sarah bit her lip as she took in the defined pectorals and chiseled abdominals bared to her gaze. The lean muscle beneath the skin rippled as he ran the towel down his arms and across his neck and chest. A rather breathless chorus of audible sighs filtered through her hearing, and out of the corner of her eye, Sarah could see Katrina Wolfe and her group unashamedly fixated in their direction.

Pulling the t-shirt over his head, Chuck spread his arms wide for his inspection. "Good?"

"Great." Sarah hitched her head over to their audience. "You know, you have a few admirers over on the sidelines."

Chuck frowned. "Really, who?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, trying in vain to keep the venom from her tone. "Katrina Wolfe and her band of merry morons."

"Huh…" Chuck spared the women a sideways glance. With an amused grin, he cocked his head to his wife. "You know, there were days when I had to beg to find a date? I think the animal shapes were a bit distracting from my more redeeming qualities."

Sarah quirked a smirk, running her hands through the array of spikes now adorning the top of his head. "Yeah, well multimillions will drastically alter that perception…"

Chuck's features took on a mock-affronted expression as he took a drink of water. "Hey, you saying I'm not pretty?" He shook his head. "And here I thought you married me for my looks."

"Not your looks, babe. Surely your body." Sarah ran a teasing finger down the median groove of his muscled stomach.

Chuck watched the digit meander down with rapt fascination. He knew that touch. It was the touch that spoke of certain promises later on. He tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow. "Can I let you in on a secret?"

Sarah mimicked his posture, her head falling to one side. "What?"

"They scare me."

Sarah's eyes twinkled with mirth. "And what do I do?"

A corner of Chuck's mouth slid upward in a half-smile. "You _terrify_ me," he asserted. "In the best way possible…"

Chuck was about to lean in to finally claim his reward when a rather unwelcome screech sounded from right where he had cast a glance moments before, and with a groan, he dropped his head to Sarah's shoulder as she laughed softly at his expense.

"Charles! Oh, Charles!"

Chuck rotated slowly, a friendly smile plastered on his face. "Katrina! Always a pleasure to see you."

A high-pitched giggle flew from Katrina's mouth as she ran a finely-manicured hand down Chuck's arm, bending slightly to give him full view of the assets tucked beneath an almost indecently-cut top. "Oh, Charles, you charmer!"

Chuck's nervous, stuttering laugh made its appearance as he not-too discreetly moved his arm from her reach, keeping his eyes at a respectable level. He could feel Sarah tensing. "You flatter me, Katrina."

"So, Charles, wonderful game today. You sure put all those other fathers to shame. Of course, not all of them have quite the…" a glance bordering on lewd raked up and down his body, "_physique_ you do."

Chuck's eyes bugged in a manner that was strongly reminiscent of the early days of the Intersect as he unconsciously shifting closer to Sarah. "Just the product of old-fashioned hard work, I suppose."

"Well, I find it wonderful that a man of your status can still find time to play a silly Father-Son game. If only my Vinnie's father was the same way," Katrina had to really try to keep the venom from her voice.

"Please, Katrina, it's just plain ole Chuck when I'm out of the office. I've learned the hard way that Charles Montgomery is only Charles Montgomery while on Traversal Industries business." He turned loving eyes to Grady and Shane playing just behind them on the picnic blanket. "My family is the most important thing in my life."

"That's beautiful," Katrina gushed. "Well, I admit that I didn't come over here for small talk. A bunch of the parents and I have planned a little get together for the team at my house. I would love it if you could come." Katrina swept her eyes to Sarah as though the other woman was an afterthought. "And you're invited, too, Sarah, of course."

"Of course," Sarah parroted, the sarcasm thinly veiled.

To the naked eye, Chuck's face looked entirely impassive, but Sarah could see the flash of fear skate through the milk-chocolate orbs at the prospect of spending two hours-plus with a gaggle of housewives who loved to swarm him with not-too subtle innuendoes.

Chuck floundered for an appropriate response, much to Sarah's amusement. The man could stare down a Russian terrorist with a Colt .45 leveled between his eyes, but quivered at an overzealous single woman. "Uh…"

Thankfully, Chuck was saved as Madeline's distinct voice sounded through the glass clearing, and the trio of adults turned to find the eldest Bartowski sprinting in their direction, dark chocolate curls flowing behind her.

"Daddy!" Madeline slid to a stop before her father, thrusting Chuck's BlackBerry forward. "Uncle call, line one."

Chuck laughed, taking the phone from his daughter. "Thanks, munchkin. Which uncle?"

Maddie's nose wrinkled as she shrugged. "I think it's either Uncle Neil or Uncle Casey, but I'm not sure…I actually think it was both."

"Both?"

Maddie rocked back on her heels, biting her lip as she contemplated the best way to describe what she had heard. "We-ell, I think it started with Uncle Neil, then in between something about an emergency and San Jose, Uncle Casey must've got the phone because he was using his growly voice that makes me laugh, and said San Jose the city in northern California not San Jose the capital of Costa Rica. Then, Uncle Neil called Uncle Casey a moron, and I figured that was about the time to give you the phone before me an' Landon are down one uncle."

Chuck laughed harder. "Thanks, kiddo." Raising the phone to his ear, he gave a silent nod to Sarah who quickly called Landon over and began packing up her stuff.

"Montgomery."

With a quiet command to the twins to watch their younger siblings, Sarah followed Chuck a ways away, noting the slightly disgruntled look on Katrina Wolfe's face at her obvious exclusion from the family situation.

"Yeah…Casey, let go of Neil's throat so I can understand him…Okay," Chuck shot a quick glance at Sarah's watch, a thoughtful look gracing his features. "It might be a tight fit, but we can make it with the jet…Yeah. Okay, good…We'll see you in about an hour." With a jab of his thumb, Chuck ended the call and turned to his wife.

"Situation in northern California. Casey and Neil are going to brief us but long story short, we need to be on the jet in about an hour."

"The kids?"

"Ellie and Awesome," Chuck answered.

Chuck turned back to Katrina and managed an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, Katrina, but we're gonna have to take a rain check on the party. Something came up that Sarah and I have to attend to."

Katrina pouted. "That's too bad. How long will you be?"

Chuck contemplated that answer, checking the time. It was just past ten, and according to Casey, their mission started almost as soon as they landed in San Jose and shouldn't keep them longer than mid-afternoon.

"Uh, a few hours max…"

"Well, the party doesn't start until later in the evening. I can take Landon and Madeline until you get back. That way, you'll have to make an appearance." Katrina poked Chuck in the chest. "I won't take no for an answer, Charles."

Backed into a corner, Chuck could only force out a smile. "That's so generous of you, Katrina. Thank you."

He stooped down to the twins. "You two be good, okay?"

A pair of dark chocolate heads bobbed in unison, and Chuck and Sarah leaned down to kiss their children goodbye. Sarah hesitated with Landon but almost started in surprise as she found her son's arms wrapped around her neck and his lips at her cheek. His dark eyes, so much like Chuck's as they radiated warmth and intelligence, bore into hers with an utter intensity that gave her pause.

"Be careful, Mom."

Sarah melted, scooping her son up into a strong hug, nearly bursting into tears as he lay his head on her shoulder in a way he hadn't since he was eight and tightened his grip on her neck. Drawing back, she pressed a kiss to the top of his tousled strands.

"You got it, baby." She tapped his nose, laughing as he wrinkled it in protest. Oh, well, you can't win them all. "Love you."

"Love you, too, Mom."

Standing and gathering up Grady, Shane already perched atop Chuck's shoulders, Sarah turned to Katrina. "Thank you again, Katrina."

"It's really no problem."

"I really don't like that woman," Sarah mumbled as they made their way towards the family Range Rover.

Chuck laughed, strapping Shane into his car seat. "Why, because she was so blatantly hitting on me?"

Sarah shook her head. "She has ulterior motives," she stated firmly as they climbed into the car. "I don't trust her any further than I can throw her…"

"That's metaphorically speaking, right?" Chuck quipped, starting the engine. "Because I'm pretty sure you can throw Katrina Wolfe pretty far. What is she, five-four, ninety pounds?"

"Eighty," Sarah snarked as they exited the parking lot. "Her breasts weigh at least five pounds each."

Chuck shook his head in amusement, and Sarah's eyes softened as she caught the twins waving at her as they passed Katrina's minivan.

"Landon's getting perceptive," she murmured softly.

Concentrating on the road as he attempted to change lanes, Chuck only let out a, "Hmm?"

"He told me to be careful," Sarah answered.

Chuck's brow furrowed. "That's funny, Maddie told me to watch out for you."

Sarah shot her husband a look. "You think they know?"

"That sure says something about our abilities if they do," Chuck commented. "That, or they're really perceptive."

"That wouldn't surprise me," Sarah remarked.

"And if they do, that's your fault." Chuck smirked, glancing over at his wife. "You're the one who left your throwing knives on the kitchen counter when we got back from Newport."

"Says the one who left his Walther on the mantle," Sarah shot back. "At least my knives can be misconstrued with the setting. Kinda hard to explain a semi-automatic in the den."

"Controller for one of my games," Chuck countered as they pulled into a private airspace where Casey, Neil, Ellie, and Devon were waiting by the team's personal jet.

"Sure, until a .9mm goes into the LCD screen," Sarah returned.

"Aw, c'mon, give me some credit," Chuck rejoined. "The safety would be on, and you know the kids know better. We taught them that lesson when they were old enough to know what guns do."

"All I'm saying is that if the kids do know, it's more likely to be your fault than mine. You're the softy."

"What's soft?" Casey smirked as they approached. "Other than the obvious…"

Chuck rolled his eyes at the less-than subtle dig. "Sarah thinks the kids know we're spies and that it's probably my fault that they do."

Casey grunted a number five (amused with a touch of sarcasm). "Hate to break it to you, Einsteins, but they've known since they were eight and probably figured it out before then." He hitched a thumb towards Neil approaching them from the jet. "Grayson spilled the beans after the Whitley mission."

"Neil!"

A confused expression adorning his face at the hostile tone emitted from Chuck's better half, Neil knew to tread lightly. "What?"

"You told the kids we're spies?!"

Hardly an idiot, Neil backed away swiftly, hands held up in surrender. "Hey, it wasn't my fault! Blame it on your kids! They eavesdropped on the mission report to Graham and Beckman, then Maddie gave me the puppy-dog eyes and it was all over after that…"

Sarah glared. "Hope you never end up being interrogated during a mission 'cause you'd crack in a minute."

"Hey, give me a break," Neil defended. "Those eyes are lethal."

Casey grunted a rare number eight (acquiescence). "I'll attest to that. Those eyes let her stay up after ten the last time I watched them."

Casey trailed off as Sarah swung dangerous eyes, fatal with intent, his direction and couldn't stop the audible gulp.

"What?!"

Casey blanched, backpedaling rapidly. Mother Hen Sarah Bartowski was way more deadly than CIA Agent Sarah Walker any day. "Uh, I'm gonna go check if the bird is fueled and ready to go. I'll see you on board."

"CASEY!" Sarah growled as the NSA agent booked it towards the jet. "YOU BETTER BE EXPLAINING YOURSELF OR I'M MAKING SURE THAT CROWN VIC OF YOURS MAKES IT TO THE DEEPEST PART OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN!"

- - -

"You're quiet." Chuck glanced up at his wife in the confines of their limo as they traveled to the site of their mission. Their task was relatively simple: Maximilian DeSoto, a powerful business entrepreneur had used his connections and influence to get his hands on a microchip encrypted with blueprints exploiting the weaknesses of an armored tank that had quickly become the staple of American military transport. With that information, enemies of the United States could easily cripple the peace-keeping US military still stationed in Afghanistan and Iraq. Team Chuck was to infiltrate the gala DeSoto was hosting up in a suburb by Palo Alto unveiling DeSoto's new product for his successful line of men's beauty products and find the chip. Chuck, as Charles Montgomery, would have very lttle difficulty gaining access to the event, but their difficulties lay with the actual capture of the chip. For all they knew it could be hidden anywhere. The hope was to have Chuck flash on anything that would indicate its whereabouts so that they could eventually capture it a different time.

Sarah seemed to shake herself from her ruminative state and shot out a reassuring smile. "It's nothing."

Chuck only cocked an eyebrow. "That would have worked ten years ago, but give me credit here. I know you better than that."

Sarah stayed silent for awhile, fiddling with the beading along the bodice of her strapless black cocktail dress. He could tell she was stalling as one hand tangled in the chain of her necklace, the other tucking a strand of hair loose from her up-do behind her ear, only to have it drift back onto her cheek.

"Are you attracted to her?"

Chuck's brow furrowed as he fixed the silk square tucked into the breast pocket of his jacket. "Who?"

Sarah slapped his hands away, arranging the pocket square herself. Her hands then slid up to the black turtleneck, folding the collar down evenly. "Katrina Wolfe."

She leaned back to appraise her husband. He looked sharp in a wool three-piece grey suit, the black turtleneck peeking from beneath the vest, his hair combed to the side in a casual, yet professional style. It was perfect for the gala, not too dressy, not too casual. A fleeting though appeared in her mind that she really couldn't blame Katrina Wolfe. Chuck Bartowski, in all manifestations, was a fine specimen of nerd…

Chuck's expression grew incredulous as he gazed at his wife. He surveyed her for a moment, trying to gauge her seemingly innocent inquiry as a trick question. Shaking his head, still in disbelief, he finally answered.

"That's what you've been agonizing about? That I'm attracted to Katrina Wolfe?" He sighed. "Geeze, I thought you were psyching yourself up to tell me you were pregnant or something…"

"Well, are you?" Sarah pressed.

"Are _you_?" Chuck countered.

"You first," Sarah retorted.

Chuck didn't hesitate. "No."

"No."

There was a pause before Sarah ventured another question. "Not even a little bit?"

"Nope," Chuck answered. "She scares me…"

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "Chuck, I'm being serious!"

"So am! Chuck protested. "She comes on really strong. I feel like I'm a piece of meat."

"It's not like she's unattractive…" Sarah pointed out.

"But you're incredibly beautiful," Chuck answered. "Stunningly so."

"She has really big boobs."

"But yours are all natural," Chuck leered playfully. "And I know first-hand…"

"She does have a nice body…"

"And you still turn heads even after four kids."

Chuck could tell she was floundering after it took a while for her next point for him to rebut. "She's…younger?"

"Okay, now you're just being silly." Chuck grinned. "Sarah, I love you. I've loved you from the first moment you pointed your gun at me. Nothing is ever gonna change that. Not Katrina Wolfe, not your fascination with the Red Sox," he smirked, "not even the fact that you had the bad judgment in dating Bryce Larkin."

Chuck shook his head as she laughed, smacking his shoulder. "I don't know why you're being so insecure when you've got nothing to be insecure about. I would never give a woman like Katrina Wolfe a second glance. Not when I have you."

By this time, Sarah's face had softened and she turned a watery smile to her husband. "Look at you, Mr. Bartowski. You're ruining my makeup."

Chuck laughed, framing her face in his palms. "You don't need it anyway." Wiping the few escaped tears with his thumbs, he appraised her with a careful eye, nodding his "Yep, still beautiful." He pressed a kiss to her lips as she blushed.

"And still apt to fish for compliments as ever…"

Sarah swatted his hands away with a laugh of her own. "I love you, too, Chuck."

The moment shattered as Casey's distinct growl drifted back from the front seat.

"Touching, you two. Really." He shifted to face Sarah from his position on the passenger side. "Hope you're holding onto that feeling, Walker."

Sarah's gaze narrowed in suspicion. She knew that look in John Casey's eyes. It was a look that indicated he was about to rain very heavily on a parade.

"Why…"

"Because we're gonna use Chuckles to get some info on DeSoto through his wife." Casey grinned that feral grin showing his potent amusement in the situation. "Glad to know you two are secure in your relationship, eh?"

Sarah's eyes flew to her husband, hardening as they caught his deceptively innocent expression. "You knew!" Her mouth tightened as they rolled to a stop at their destination. "Well-played, Mr. Bartowski…"

Chuck turned a dirty look to Casey as he shook his head. "Doesn't negate anything I've said," he defended. Sliding out of the limo, he held out a hand to help her out. "C'mon, you know me better than that…"

"Yes, I do," Sarah conceded. "Which is why I know you'll be very disappointed to know you're on the couch tonight."

Chuck groaned. Raising a casual hand to his ear, he activated the communication link to Casey following just a step behind.

"I hate you, Casey."

- - -

Charles and Sarah Montgomery were never a pair to make a grand entrance, but when their location brought them smack-dab in the middle of Silicon Valley where the name was immortal and the physical manifestation of the man was akin to the reincarnation of Zeus, himself, it wasn't all too surprising to find all eyes turned in their direction with the whispers rolling like a wave through the crowd.

With a practiced eye, Chuck surveyed his constituents, his casual gaze sweeping over their surroundings while Sarah quickly analyzed their situation.

"DeSoto's at the bar chatting up Zac Efron."

Sarah snorted. "As if that pretty boy needs any more beauty products…"

"Wife's on his arm," Chuck noted.

"She prettier than me?"

Chuck smirked. "Not even close."

Sarah pinpointed the DeSotos before murmuring to her husband. "To the bar?"

"To the bar."

Leaning casually against the counter, Chuck didn't spare their host a glance as he signaled to the bartender. "Dry martini, please. Shaken. And an apple martini for the lady as well."

"Right away, sir."

As he waited for their drinks, Chuck kept his eyes on his wife, threading his fingers through hers. He kissed the digits, in his grasp, lifted a hand to greet an acquaintance, looking everywhere but at their mark. Seemingly oblivious to the curious stares sent his way from the host couple, Chuck accepted his drink with a smile and a gracious tip, and with an absent, almost indifferent nod to DeSoto, placed a hand on Sarah's lower back, leading her across the room away from the bar but with a clear vantage point to the business entrepreneur.

Sarah eyed her husband curiously. "What are you doing?"

Chuck took a sip of his martini, leaning in, his lips right by her ear. To the casual observer, it was simply a married couple enjoying an intimate moment.

"Types like Maximilian DeSoto thrive on attention," Chuck reasoned, slipping an arm around her waist and drawing her closer. "They seek out the people that draw the most and latch onto them. They hate being ignored. The longer they are, the more intrigued they get."

"Therefore, we attract them," Sarah deduced, trying to ignore the shivers rollicking down her bare back at the rhythmic stroking of his fingertips.

"Exactly."

Sarah hummed her approval. "Interesting theory. How'd you come up with that one?"

Chuck smirked, taking another sip of his martini. "Greek System Logic 101. It's how we got the big pledges, ones that had daddies who could pay for Spring Break trips to Catalina or Cancun through donations," he explained. "You go after a 'big fish' too aggressively, they get turned off. Play hard-to-get, you draw them in with the intrigue." His eyes flicked upward for the barest of moments before settling on hers. "Like now."

Sure enough, Maximilian DeSoto had pinpointed them from across the room and was making an obtrusive beeline in their direction. In what he hoped was a casual approach, DeSoto stopped before the couple.

"Excuse me, sir, I don't believe we've met." He stuck out a hand.

"Maximilian DeSoto. And this is my wife, Gabrielle."

Sarah eyed the woman her husband was supposed to charm. Gabrielle DeSoto was a clear trophy wife, her tall, statuesque frame providing quite the foil to her husband's short, stocky stature. The couple was a picture of contradictions from his dark hair and light eyes to her light hair and dark eyes. Sarah tensed as Gabrielle DeSoto cast a long, sinful gaze up and down her husband's frame, clearly in approval of the picture before her.

Chuck inclined his head, grasping the offering. "Pleasure, sir. I understand this is your gala. Charles Montgomery." He gestured towards Sarah. "My wife, Sarah."

"Ah, yes," DeSoto snapped his fingers with recognition. "Leading provider of all technology these days. Seems your Spectrum system has knocked Windows Vista out of the top spot for personal computer of choice."

"I was wondering why Bill Gates wasn't taking my calls," Chuck quipped charmingly. "And here I thought it was because I beat him so bad at _Halo_…"

The couples shared a laugh, and Gabrielle DeSoto took the opportunity to eye Chuck again, much to the attention and chagrin of Sarah.

The strands of music caught Chuck's attention, and he inclined his head to DeSoto. "Wonderful, gala, Mr. DeSoto. Your product is very impressive."

DeSoto dispensed the formalities with a wave. "Maximilian, please, Mr. Montgomery, and thank you. Please do take a sample."

"Charles, Maximilian, and I will," Chuck returned graciously, turning to his wife and holding out a hand. "Darling, a dance?"

Sarah accepted his hand, allowing him to guide her onto the ballroom floor. "Of course."

Chuck nodded to the DeSotos. "Maximilian, Mrs. DeSoto."

Sarah cocked her head as she grasped his hand, laying her free palm on his shoulder. "You could have made a move…"

"Patience, sweetheart…" Chuck implored, spinning her into his arms, her back fitting against his front.

"I'm assuming you have a theory for Mrs. DeSoto as well?" Sarah pressed, addressing him from over her shoulder.

"Of course," Chuck rejoined. "Long story, short, she wants me."

"That is obvious," she deadpanned, her leg coming up to wrap around his waist. "I've never seen anyone undress you with her eyes the way she did."

"Disturbing…" Chuck couldn't help but shudder. "Anyway, so I play hard-to-get. Let her revel in the chase."

"Masterful, Mr. Montgomery," Sarah agreed.

Chuck dipped her down as the song ended. Easing her back to a standing position, he leaned down and kissed her hand, covertly scouting his mark. "And this is where you leave me to go powder your nose…"

Sarah smiled, shaking her head. "Good luck, babe…"

Chuck winked. "Do I really need it?"

Sarah laughed softly, knowing full well how devastating the Chuck Bartowski charm could be. "Just don't dazzle her too much."

Chuck didn't reply, only sauntered back to the bar. He ordered another martini and lounged against the counter.

"You are an excellent dancer, Mr. Montgomery."

Chuck stifled a smirk as he rotated slowly to face the expectant eyes. Holding the glass by the stem, he tipped his head to his new companion before taking a slow sip. "Thank you, Mrs. DeSoto."

"Those talents shouldn't go to waste idling by the bar, Mr. Montgomery."

"Charles, please." Chuck downed the rest of the drink and set the glass down, extending his hand. "Well, it wouldn't do to be without a beautiful partner. Who will the people be distracted by if I happen to misstep?"

"Charles, you are too charming. And it's Gabrielle."

Chuck twirled her into his arms, keeping a respectable distance away and his hands in mostly respectable places. His plans were slightly foiled as she pressed closer, the intent palpable in her eyes.

"You know what I've heard, Charles?" She didn't wait for his response. "A man who excels on the dance floor is a man who excels in bedroom…"

Chuck chuckled, resisting the urge to tug at the collar of his turtleneck. "Well, my wife is the only person who can truly attest to that."

"And your wife," Gabrielle remarked. "Is she able to handle you?"

"I would think so," Chuck responded. He turned the question right back to her. "And your husband, does he handle you?"

Gabrielle laughed seductively. "I have yet to find a man who can truly handle me, Charles." She drew one finger down his chest. "Perhaps you will be the first…"

- - -

Sarah Bartowski was not a vindictive woman…okay, that was a lie. Yes, she was a vindictive woman, but in her defense, that vindictive side came out only when justified. Like right now. When two-bit hussies were currently shamelessly draped over her husband without regard in any way, shape, or form for the bonds of marriage. The only thing that stifled her urge to reach for the knives conveniently sheathed at her lower back was the niggling that this was a mission. She drew in a deep breath, trying to squelch the ever-present urge to skewer Gabrielle DeSoto.

Casey appeared at her side, hands folded, posture ramrod straight, looking all the world like his cover, security detail for the Montgomerys…actually, it wasn't all that divergent from his normal stance. But she digressed…Sarah couldn't see his eyes, currently shielded behind a pair of sunglasses, but she knew he was taking his usual sick pleasure in the situation.

"He looks comfortable out there," Casey remarked.

"Bite me, Casey," Sarah snarled.

"I'm just saying, he's come a long way from the Nerd Herder behind the counter at the Buy More." The feral grin emerged. "It won't take him long till she's eating out of the palm of his hand."

Sarah squared up to her partner. "Need I remind you about the fact that you let the twins stay up past ten?" She quirked an eyebrow, signaling to the bartender for a drink. "Don't think I've forgotten."

"Casey, stop," Neil cut in, his voice slightly betraying amusement. "We're trying to _avoid _bloodshed. Sarah," His low, soft voice turned its attention to her in an attempt to placate her. "Take it easy. You can't harm the mark until Chuck's gleaned some information from her."

"And after?" Sarah bit out, her eyes narrowing with each "innocent" caress that skated down Chuck's arm.

An amused chuckle filtered through the device. "Fair game."

- - -

Chuck quirked an eyebrow, processing Gabrielle's last advance. These were the times he really hated being the Intersect. Chuck mustered up his reserve. Oh well, he was already on the couch for the night. Things couldn't get any worse. He sent a silent prayer to the Big Man up top that things _wouldn't _get any worse before returning his attention to his mark.

"That is quite the indecent proposal, Gabrielle. I'm not sure my wife would approve."

"Wifey wouldn't have to know…" Gabrielle answered. "I'd definitely make it worth your while."

Chuck schooled his features into a mask that seriously was considering the proposal. "You'd have to buy me a few drinks for that, Gabrielle," he cajoled lightly. "I'm not that kind of guy."

"You play way too coy, Charles," Gabrielle simpered. "These galas are immensely boring. I must find ways to entertain myself. Lord knows Maximilian is lacking in certain areas."

"Ah, yes, that's where I'm confused, Gabrielle," Chuck commented, finding his opening. "Your husband is a business entrepreneur, and yet here he is unveiling a product that is a little more than useless to what he does. I don't see how catering to pretty boys will profit him in the long run."

"Yes, well, my husband dabbles in the useless whenever he has something bigger on the side. I always see two sets of teams enter his office."

Chuck inclined his head. "He's shrewd."

"That is the business game, Charles," Gabrielle asserted.

Chuck laughed. "I think I'll stick to the software game," he remarked. "Less cutthroat."

"Easy to say if you're on top," she answered with a shrug. "Me, personally, I don't mind being _beneath _it all…"

Chuck quirked an eyebrow at the advance as the last strands of music faded.

"Thank you for the dance, Charles."

Chuck leaned down to kiss her hand. "My pleasure, Gabrielle." His eyes settled on the bracelet encircling her wrist, and as they zeroed in on the heart-shaped charm dangling from the center, the images began to flash behind his eyelids. Blinking slightly to clear his head, he shot her a pleasant smile.

"Perhaps you can join me for another later in the evening?"

"You can expect me," she responded.

Chuck nodded, meandering back to Sarah at the bar. Lowering his voice, he pressed a kiss to the curve of her shoulder, murmuring his revelation into her skin.

"Chip's in the bracelet."

Sarah stiffened slightly, the only indication that she had heard him. Turning in his embrace, she slipped her arms around his neck, casual gaze sweeping the gala floor. She spotted the piece of jewelry in question dangling from Gabrielle's wrist.

"In the heart charm?"

Chuck nodded. "So how do we get it?"

Sarah eyed the woman, who had drifted back to her own husband. She shrugged. "Keep playing hard-to-get, Tiger."

Chuck sighed. "You know, just for once, _Casey _should go after the mark…"

- - -

Sarah strode into the ladies' room to compose herself. Chuck had spent the last hour subtly drawing the attentions of Gabrielle DeSoto. The other woman had eagerly latched onto her husband, much to her everlasting ire. And combined with what transpired earlier in the day with Katrina Wolfe, Sarah had just hit her breaking point.

"You know, Mrs. Montgomery, if you wanted the chip so bad, I would have gladly traded it for your husband."

Sarah stiffened at the voice and swiveled to face Gabrielle DeSoto. She noted the smug look on the other woman's face.

Yep. And there went the breaking point.

Gabrielle casually leaned up against the sink, eyeing Sarah shrewdly.

"It was an excellent play, having Charles go after me instead of you going after Maximilian. The idiot wouldn't know a seduction if it pranced in front of him naked." She snorted indelicately. "Believe me, I know first hand."

Sarah cocked an eyebrow, comprehension dawning at her words. "I'm gleaning you're the mastermind behind all this?"

Gabrielle scoffed. "Please, you really think an egotistical buffoon like Maximilian would be capable of this? All it took was a bit of skin and the contacts gave me exactly what I want." She shrugged. "Call me Benedict Arnold, but turning traitor sure pays well…"

"So you'll understand that I'll have to take that from you?" Sarah remarked.

Gabrielle settled into a fighting stance. "You can sure try, Mrs. Montgomery."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Why does it always have to be the bitchy wife?"

She stepped back as Gabrielle's fist whistled through the air. Ducking around the outstretched arm, she countered with her own jab that doubled the woman over. Gabrielle side-stepped around a snap kick, swiping her own leg out to intercept the following roundhouse kick.

"So tell me, Mrs. Montgomery, your husband was rather efficient in his flirtation with me. Was all that just an act or is he really that tired in your relationship?" Gabrielle taunted, blocking Sarah's hook with her forearm, retaliating with a backhand.

"Don't flatter yourself," Sarah spat. "You were just a mark."

The pair traded punches and kicks, dancing around the slick tile of the women's room. Sarah stumbled forward as a mistimed punch knocked her slightly off-balance. Gabrielle pounced, wrapping her up in a chokehold.

"Please, darling, if it's one thing I can tell, it's the lust in the eyes of a man. Your dear husband must be quite unsatisfied if the want in his eyes was so clear."

"Trust me, _darling_," Sarah snarled. "It was you he was looking at, but it was me he was seeing."

Sarah threw her head back, catching Gabrielle's nose. An elbow to the stomach doubled the woman over again and a back knuckle drove her back. Squaring up to her opponent, Sarah unleashed a vicious left hook, the sizable diamond on her engagement ring and wedding band making quite the mark as Gabrielle slumped to the ground, clearly unconscious. She snatched the bracelet containing the chip off Gabrielle's wrist. All the tension built up from the antics of both her and Katrina seemed to alleviate as she wiped the blood from the diamond on her finger.

"Irony hurts, doesn't it?" Sarah smirked, thoroughly satisfied at the sight of Gabrielle DeSoto sprawled on the floor.

"Bitch."

Smoothing her dress and fixing her hair and makeup, Sarah palmed the bracelet and exited the bathroom. Immediately, Chuck's eyes sought hers out, and despite the disparity of their current situation, took the time to appreciate her. That was one of the things she loved about him. Approaching him with an extra sway to her hips, she nestled herself into his side, slapping her prize in his hand.

"I believe this is what we're after…"

"I love you!" Chuck exclaimed gleefully at the prospect of no more advances towards a woman that made him feel so dirty. He looked down at the bracelet, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he scrutinized the heart-shaped charm that held their mission. "Wait, how'd you get it?"

Sarah smiled coyly. "I asked."

"But how'd…" Chuck trailed off, shaking his head. "Never mind. I have a feeling I don't want to know. Important thing is we got it and I get to stop being mauled."

Sarah smirked. "Not quite, babe, we still have Katrina's party to go to. You ready to go?"

"Not really," Chuck mumbled weakly. Shaking his head, he gestured over to the doors that led out to the balcony. "Let me just put a quick call into the brass and we can get out of here."

Sarah nodded before turning to Casey as he sidled up beside her. "Send a cleanup crew to the ladies' room, please."

Casey wrinkled his nose in disgust as his eyes flicked over to the location in question. "Aw, hell, Walker. Don't tell me you made a mess…"

Sarah shrugged innocently as she spotted Chuck making his way back over, a triumphant grin on her face. "Neil said fair game…"

- - -

Chuck and Sarah stood at the side entrance to Katrina Wolfe's house. Far from their previous attire, they were dressed down for the late afternoon pool party. The anxiety was clear in Chuck's mannerisms as he shifted from side to side in his trademark black Chuck Taylors, low top in style, while scratching at the collar of his white button-down shirt opened over a white tank top. He pushed the sleeves of the button up to his elbows and shoved his hands into the pockets of his plaid shorts before Sarah grabbed at his arm to stop his movements. He relaxed, casting a loving glance over to his wife.

"You look beautiful."

Sarah eyed her own attire, a casual sundress, the hem flowing to just above her knees and low-heeled sandals bringing her just below his eyesight.

"Thanks, babe." She cocked her head to the door that separated then from the party, half of her hair swept up in a loose ponytail held secure in a clip, the other half cascading down her back in gentle waves.

"You ready?"

Chuck audibly gulped. "Give me another sec…"

Sarah laughed. "We just took down a threat to the nation's security, surely you can suffer through a pool party."

"Like I said, those women in there scare me," he defended. "Ravaging beasts…" Letting out a deep breath, he clapped his palms together, psyching himself up.

"Okay, here we go."

They pushed the door open, and as though she had a radar set to alert her of their presence, Katrina Wolfe zeroed in on the couple, veering straight towards them.

"Charles! Sarah. So glad you could make it!"

Chuck shrugged. "As tempting as it was, we figured we had to collect the twins sometime," he joked. "I hope they weren't too much trouble."

Katrina waved him off with a dismissive hand. "Oh, hardly! Angels, both of them. But I have to ask, what took you two so long? We thought you weren't going to make it!"

"Well, uh…" Chuck stammered. He couldn't very well state their reason for their rather prolonged absence. That in and of itself might be a bit messy. As usual, Sarah was right there to save his behind.

"Well, Chuck had to travel up to northern California to meet with a potential client for the company," Sarah explained. "It was short notice, but he was a priority. The negotiations were extremely short, and I admit I convinced him to stay a bit and enjoy the Bay Area. I wanted to do something special for just the two of us. It's been awhile since we've had time to ourselves." Sarah lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper heavy with clandestine intent. "He's still recovering…"

Katrina forced out a smile catching the rather blatant innuendo. "Nice to know you two still keep that spark alive. Lord knows a man like Charles is susceptible to so much temptation."

Chuck shook his head, refuting the insinuation. "I wouldn't worry about that, Katrina." He cast a glance down to his wife, eyes soft. "Can't succumb to much temptation when everything I've ever wanted is right here."

The smile on Katrina's face grew even more strained. "How precious…" She turned away from the couple wrapped up in one another. "Well, I really must check on the rest of the guests."

Sarah tightened her hold on her husband, nudging him gently. "Nice save, sweetie, but I still haven't forgot about the stunt you and Casey pulled in the limo." She leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips before drawing away, patting his chest comfortingly.

"You're still on the couch."

Chuck groaned. It was gonna be a long night…

- - -

Landon Charles and Madeline Eleanor Bartowski were not your typical ten year-olds. They were insanely aware of the world around them, no doubt attributed to the pair of superspies that conceived them. They knew how their weird, completely unorthodox world worked around them. They knew their parents were spies, not just because Uncle Neil slipped. They knew that whenever their parents got a call from Uncle Neil and Uncle Casey and talked in those hushed, urgent tones that it wasn't just about their father's company. They knew that the knives they found on the kitchen counter with the holes on the handles were not the knives their father used for cooking (their mother stayed as far away from the stove as possible unless she was gutting a fish or some other form of raw meat); they knew that the gun that lay innocently on the mantle housing their big television was not from one of their father's video game controllers, and most importantly, they knew when someone had less-than noble intentions towards one of their parents.

Madeline pulled her brother away from Vinnie and to the side. She hitched a head at Katrina Wolfe who had gravitated back to their father once their mother had struck up a conversation with Hunter Poole's mom. Katrina was standing a bit too close to their father for their liking, her hand permanently drawn to his forearm. They could see the highly uncomfortable look in their father's eyes although he masked it well and the underlying tension in their mother's stance as she observed the exchange from a distance.

"You seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Yup." Landon quirked a grin, cocking his head at his sister. They both stifled laughs as their mother's right hand unconsciously drifted to her lower back where they knew one of her throwing knives was usually concealed. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Maddie smirked right back. "Yup. Vinnie's nice and all –"

"But no one messes with the Bartowskis," Landon finished.

Maddie nodded firmly in agreement. "What are you thinking?" she posed thoughtfully. "Bartowski Special One or Two?"

Landon cocked an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? With all these people?" He shook his head. "Naw, it's gotta be a bit more subtle."

His smile widened as he spotted one of Vinnie's RC cars idling by the side of the pool. "We might have to do it like that time in San Diego…"

Maddie followed his gaze to the car then flicked over to an abandoned soccer ball a little ways away. "With…?"

Landon nodded, catching her drift immediately. "Uh-huh."

Maddie's expression turned downright wicked. "Oooo, that has possibilities."

Understanding passing through them, Madeline and Landon split up, casually making their way over to their respective targets. Maddie corralled a bunch of Landon's teammates, engaging them in a passing circle. Landon had challenged Vinnie to a race and was weaving the RC truck through the party. The twins locked gazes, and with an efficiency and stealth that would have made their parents proud if not for the circumstances, the twins put their plan in action. In complete synchronicity that could be misconstrued as complete coincidence, two items barreled towards their intended target, walking alongside the edge of the pool.

"Watch out, Ms. Wolfe!"

Katrina leaped back at the shout, narrowly missing the small remote-controlled truck bearing down on her. She was too slow, however, to avoid the soccer ball that innocently escaped the circle of pre-teens. The top of her extended foot caught the top of the ball, propelling her towards the inevitable destination.

With an almighty shriek, Katrina Wolfe reeled backward, arms flailing, and hit the surface of the water with a rather impressive splash. Shocked silence reigned as the gathered parents watched the aftermath of the debacle before one snort permeated the quiet, prompting a wave of chuckles to ripple through the party. Laughing along with the crowd around them, Landon and Maddie surveyed their work with satisfaction. Hmm…that turned out better than they thought it would. Katrina Wolfe would keep persisting, they knew, but they were content with the fact they could chalk up one victory for Team Bartowski.

Looking up, the twins caught their parents' eyes. Outwardly, Chuck and Sarah seemed to indulge in the hilarity, but both had seen the look veiled in their eyes. Whether it was parental intuition, whether it was those spy skills that made them so good, whether it was the simple fact that they just _knew_, the glint shining in their parents' gazes was unmistakable.

Aw, nuts. Busted.

_And cut! A bit longer than usual, but I hope fun nonetheless. Hoped this was a nice change from the insanity that was the latest episode…sheesh. Anyway, next on the menu, is the return of our favorite DEA agent with a penchant for BDSM, and she is sure surprised to see what a few years has done to our beloved Sarah Walker…stay tuned! _

_Roxy_


	7. Sarah vs the White Picket Fence

**Disclaimer:** _I_ _own nothing._

**Rating:** _T. The simple presence of Carina warrants the rating…_

**Timeline:** _Six years since Carina's first appearance (1.04 Chuck vs. the Wookie). Chuck and Sarah have been married four years, and the twins are almost one._

**Chapter Summary:** _It's been six years since Carina's seen Sarah Walker last. She had no idea what six years has done to the woman she once knew._

**Alternate Characters:**

_Javier Varquez – Brazilian oil scion suspected of using his contacts to deal cocaine around the world. Also suspected of being involved with a plan to ship American POWs to various foreign terrorist groups._

_Alright, the long-awaited chapter of Carina's return. Apparently many of you have been excited for this one, and I definitely am too. Since I first developed the concept of Parenthood, I wanted to do a chapter with Carina and her reaction to find that her good friend and partner in deep-cover, Sarah Walker, has been domesticated. And this is the result. This chapter is a bit different in the others in that it has a good amount of introspection from Carina's point of view, but I hope that's not a turn-off. _

_Anyway, enjoy!_

**Chapter 7**

_Sarah vs. the White Picket Fence_

Sarah Walker hadn't really gleaned much from her time in high school. She did her work, got the grade, but didn't really apply herself to her full potential. Part of the reason was her father's urge to keep a low profile and be as inconspicuous as possible, but to be honest, she was much more concerned focusing her efforts to stay invisible to the people like Dick Duffy and Heather Chandler who seemed to have a morbid fascination with making her life as well as the rest of the social misfits like her as difficult as humanly possible. She had once entertained the thought of innocently displaying certain skills with certain sharp, pointy objects that made one hell of a mess when thrown at a high velocity, but unfortunately, that notion was squelched the moment it materialized in her mind. Her father did say they had to keep a low profile, and the mass decapitation of the varsity football team and cheerleading squads would more than likely garner more than enough unwanted attention.

She figured high school would have been a complete waste if not for her junior year. Much to her excitement, she had earned the grades that qualified her for the only Honors English course offered junior year at James Buchanan. The course was American Literature and taught by the most sought-after teacher in the school, Ms. Elisabeth Denning. The class became her safe haven, absent of the meatheads like Dick Duffy and the mean-spirited ditzes like Heather Chandler, both of whom lacked the significant intelligence and motivation for the rigors of the class.

While everything else from her other classes filtered from her mind the moment she had completed the mandatory test, she absorbed everything in that class from the ridiculousness of the Salem Witch Trials, to the decade of prosperity that was the Roaring Twenties. She sailed a raft with Huck and Jim, lamented the paradoxical burden of an educated slave with Frederick Douglass, and mourned the romantic foibles of Jay Gatsby with Nick Carraway. But the one thing that truly cemented itself in her mind was the unit covering what had been dubbed, "The American Dream." Mrs. Denning had regaled the class of the literary-constructed ideal that freedom allowed any person, regardless of social boundaries, to pursue their dreams and achieve greatness through hard work. Stories of immigrants that toiled the long hard hours so that their children could achieve the dream of the white picket fence made their way to her consumption. It was a completely romantic idea, one that glorified the struggles of the ordinary but had still piqued the interest of her slightly jaded mind. Unconsciously, drifting to a more juvenile mindset she had abandoned with every passing identity, she found herself dreaming of the day when her own dreams of middle-class suburbia with its white picket fence would come true.

Of course, that dream became slightly deterred as her life took a drastic turn once Graham had extended a hand and a proposal that saved her already fractured life. The picture perfect fantasy of the white picket fence was whisked away to fester beneath the whirlwind of fabricated names, forged identities, and missions that had her in the company of rather unsavory characters, and what little romantic notions she had left found their end rather quickly.

Of course, all that changed the day she met Chuck Bartowski. He had endeared her with his pure, untainted innocence concerning the world around her. Even with the disaster of Stanford, he managed to keep an optimism that she had ceased to harbor a long time ago, even before she was pulled into her father's life. Never before had she wished so ardently for the life she knew Chuck could give her, the life he was offering with open arms and that wide, Bartowski grin. Never before did the prospect of such normality seem so appealing, and she suspected in the presence of anyone else, it really wouldn't be. She had always thrived on the thrill of her work, the spontaneity of her life, the absolute intoxication of dancing along the lines of moral ambiguity for the abstruse greater good. She had never questioned it before. She was good at what she did. It was all she knew, and she knew it well. She was confident in her skills and secure in the identity they gave her. She had a purpose. She understood her purpose. And it gave her a sense of control her old life sorely lacked. Jenny Burton's life in and of itself was mediocre at best. She was mediocre. Sarah Walker, on the other hand, was extraordinary.

But as she surveyed her surroundings contentedly, the twins entertaining themselves in the corner, the dogs, Boston and Bronx, out somewhere in the confines of the house, the pictures of the family, extended and immediate, littering the walls and bookshelves, and the presence of the little items scattered randomly around room that gave the place a homey feeling, she couldn't help but smile. She wasn't sure she could function all too well in the real world; she had disconnected from it a long time. But when Chuck had hovered before her that fateful day, his eyes sparkling with the passion and earnestness that she had witnessed so readily face alight with the small half-smile she knew was reserved just for her, and hand outstretched for her to take, Sarah knew. Graham had saved her life that day, but Chuck had given that life back. And more than five years later, they had built that life into what she had envisioned all those years ago: she had her sprawling home (more of a mansion) with its white picket fence (okay, more of an iron-wrought gate), and her Prince Charming in the form of a handsome nerd with a heart of gold and an equally heart-melting smile. And as Sarah tucked in the twins for their afternoon nap, she looked down at her children fondly. Yep, Sarah Walker had her American Dream. There was no way she was going back now.

- - -

Sarah slid back into the living room, grateful for the relative peace and quiet as Maddie and Landon snoozed in the den. She settled down on the couch, casually clad in worn jeans and an old Nerd Herd t-shirt, her feet propped up on the coffee table, red pen in hand. Grabbing a pile of papers, she began grading exams for one of her Criminology sections when her spy sense - Oh, good Lord, Chuck was rubbing off on her way to much if she was making unconscious allusions to a comic book she had never read, let alone really knew anything about - tingled, and immediately she went on the alert and defensive. Her fingers clenched around the ballpoint pen in her hand, and with a prayer to the Big Man Upstairs that there would be minimal damage to the house, she whirled sharply, sending the writing utensil knifing towards her attacker. The black-clad figure lurched to the side, just barely avoiding the projectile, falling forward in a roll. Sarah cart wheeled over the back of the sofa, continuing the motion to land a crescent kick on her intruder. Doubled over but undeterred, her opponent retaliated with a mule kick, whipping a roundhouse through in combination that sent Sarah tumbling over the coffee table and her graded papers fluttering through the air.

Scrambling to her feet, Sarah ducked beneath a right cross and a left uppercut, jabbing her fist into her attacker's solar plexus. A knife hand to her back sent her down to her knees but not before Sarah dug a back knuckle into her assailant's quadriceps, a guaranteed Charley Horse if she'd ever heard of one. Rolling back and to her feet, she squared up to her attacker. Right in her direct line of vision, she noticed the slight drop of her opponent's shoulder and rotated back and to her left in anticipation of the uppercut. Thrusting her attacker's elbow across with a palm, she landed a side blade kick to the back of the knee brought the person down to one knee and a cutting elbow to the head sent the unknown figure sprawling but not before Sarah caught a foot to the back of her ankle, sweeping her off her feet to land beside her fallen assailant. Her attacker hefted herself into a sitting position, pulling off the black ski mask to reveal a familiar pair of ice blue eyes, the silky copper-colored hair cascading down her back.

Sarah's eyes narrowed in suspicion steepened her mouth to address the woman beside her when a slight whimpering filtered from the crib in the den. With an agonized groan, Sarah fell back onto the carpet, throwing her arms over her face before hauling herself to her feet.

"Dammit, Carina, you woke the kids."

One elegant eyebrow shot skyward, and Carina stood, following Sarah to the den where the twins' playpen was situated in the middle of the room. Hovering at the edge of the structure, she peered over the bars and down to the infants swaddled in the depths. One was squirming in her cotton prison, a pair of royal blue eyes wide open and alert. The other was sprawled on his stomach, chest rising and falling in the steady breaths of deep slumber. She watched as Sarah stooped down, gathering the blue-eyed one in her arms. The callous CIA agent transferred quickly to loving parent and shushed the infant soothingly, bobbing up and down as she ran one hand methodically over the pink-clad back. Obviously used to Sarah's touch, the infant quieted, halting the agitated whimpers almost instantly.

"Whose are they?"

Still calming the child with obviously practiced ease, Sarah flicked slightly preoccupied eyes down to the other one still dead to the world, unconscious and spread-eagled with one fist unconsciously clenched around the tail of a stuffed tiger.

"Mine," she answered. Jiggling the baby in her arms, she motioned to each in turn with a hitch of her head. "This one is Madeline Eleanor and the little man still sleeping is Landon Charles."

If at all possible, Carina's eyebrow rose infinitesimally higher at Landon's middle name. "Oh, don't tell me you and that analyst actually procreated."

"As a matter of fact, we did," Sarah retorted, setting Maddie back down into the playpen. Within seconds, the eldest Bartowski was once again fast asleep. "We've been married for four years now."

The expression on Carina's face transitioned from amused to incredulous. "White picket fence, husband, two kids…" she rattled off, abruptly coming to the conclusion.

"Jesus Christ, you're domesticated." She smirked, cocking her head sardonically. "What, no Lassie to complete the picture?"

As if on cue, a pair of barks sounded, and a Chocolate Labrador loped into the room, followed closely by a Border Terrier. The Lab padded to the crib, settling down on his front paws while the Terrier circled the couch before standing guard at the feet of his mistress. Sarah grinned.

"Nope, just a Boston and a Bronx."

Carina shook her head. "Well, screw me sideways. You're freaking June Cleaver."

Sarah laughed. "Well, not completely. I still have work."

"While he stays home and plays Daddy? How progressively modern of you."

"No, he was made an agent before we married."

Carina arched her second eyebrow, surveying the homey beauty of the Bartowski mansion. "Well, this house sure isn't afforded through a federal salary," she remarked, her gaze drifting to the wedding set gracing Sarah's hand. "And neither is that multi-carat boulder from Tiffany's on your finger. What did you do, weasel your way into some old fart's pants then off him once he married you?"

Sarah rolled her eyes at the dramatics. "The Agency funded the software company Chuck started a few years ago, Traversal Industries."

Carina whistled, recognition clear on her face. "So your Chuck, the same geek that used to be part of the Nerd Herd at a Buy More, is now a multi-billionaire, one of the leading technological suppliers in the world, and can afford that huge thing?" Carina hummed her approval. "Perhaps there was more to that man than I knew."

Sarah rolled her eyes again and was about to retort when the unmistakable sound of the front door opening permeated through the house, followed by Chuck's boisterous shout that sent Boston and Bronx scampering through the room to their master.

"Sarah, honey, I'm home!"

Chuck's lofty form appeared at the entrance to the living room, and Sarah could see Carina's eyebrow dart upward once more at the sight of her husband. She noted with amusement the DEA agent trying to appease the image of a curly-haired, Nerd Herd-clad geek to the man before her. Gone were the luscious ringlets and in their place was the array of spikes that highlighted his square jaw and strapping features. Chuck's lean frame was encased in his work-week usual of a pair of tailored black slacks and a dress shirt. The French cuffs were free of their cufflinks and folded a few times to his forearms, the charcoal-gray fabric slightly wrinkled, no doubt from the numerous times Chuck pushed his sleeves to his elbows, indicative that Chuck actually designed something rather than sat through meetings. A black and charcoal-gray striped tie dangled loosely from the collar unbuttoned to beneath his collarbone, giving the one-time Nerd Herder an air of casual professionalism marred only by the bags of takeout dangling from his fingers. Chuck halted at her companion, an expression of surprise flickering across his face.

"Carina."

Barely breaking stride, despite his initial shock, he made his way to the kitchen, stopping again at the side of the red ball point pen imbedded in the plaster of the shared wall. A corner of his mouth quirked upward in amusement as he ran a finger along the barrel of the implement before yanking it out with a firm tug. Smirking slightly, he flicked the pen back over to his wife who caught it with a smile.

"I take it you didn't call?"

Carina reclined casually against the back of the sofa, eyeing Chuck closely. "Now where would the fun be in that?"

Chuck chuckled, casting a precursory glance around the living room. Aside from the small hole in the wall, Sarah's papers strewn all over the living room floor, and the skew to some of the furniture, the room was more or less intact.

"Well, thank you for keeping the mass destruction to a minimum," he sighed. Dropping the takeout bag on the center island of the kitchen and slinging his suit jacket over a chair, Chuck leaned against the doorway, arms folded.

"I really hate to ask this, but what are you doing here? I'm pretty sure Casey kicked his crack habit ages ago."

Carina pouted. "What's the matter, Chuck, not happy to see me?"

"If you wish to translate skepticism to happiness," Chuck quipped negligently. "You have to admit our last encounter left very little to be desired."

"You wound me, Chuck," Carina simpered. "Would you believe I just wanted to pay my good friend Sarah a visit? Brighten up her day a bit?"

Chuck only cocked his head, eyes narrowing. "Try again."

"You're no fun." Carina flicked a wave of copper-colored hair over her shoulder. "I got a call from my superiors to fly here and establish contact with your team. They said your area of expertise would be invaluable." Carina brushed a hand dismissively. "I can only imagine you still can't talk about the intricacies of your mission."

Sarah shook her head. "Nope, nothing has changed from the last time."

Carina's eyes sought Chuck's form still leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, and she swept a sinful gaze up and down the six-three package. "I seriously beg to differ."

Sarah shot her friend a warning glance that Carina pointedly ignored.

"So where's the rest of your team? Or did Casey get into one firefight too many?"

"Considering this current assignment – already five years way too long – with my luck, I'll bite it with something completely normal. Like a heart attack."

Carina's gaze slid to the kitchen as Casey sidled through the sun doors leading to the backyard. Whipping his sunglasses off, he slung his suit jacket beside Chuck's, loosening the plain black tie around his neck. Rolling his sleeves to his elbows, Casey sidestepped Chuck moving with plates and utensils towards the dining room, yanking open the massive refrigerator. Scanning the contents of the appliance for a moment, he plucked three bottles from the depths, handing one over the Chuck as he passed. The comfort the hulking NSA agent held in the Bartowski stronghold slightly baffled her. It was obvious he was a regular at the house with the ease and familiarity at which he moved through the room.

Chuck laughed, finishing setting the table. "Don't kid yourself, Casey," he chided in a way he surely couldn't have those five years ago, "you're not fooling anyone with that churlish act."

"Who uses the word churlish anymore?" Casey retorted. "And for your information, Bartowski, I still don't like this assignment. I've just gotten numb to the whole process."

"Which Bartowski?" Chuck shot back impishly. "There are four of us here."

Casey squared up to Chuck, teeth bared sardonically. "Would you rather I call you Chuckles, chucklebutt?"

"Boys, settle," Sarah laughed.

Casey jabbed a finger towards his counterpart. "He started it!"

Sarah cocked an eyebrow. "John, you are way too old to be acting like the kids."

"Whatever," Casey dismissed. "Where the hell's Grayson, anyway? I'm starving."

This was all so foreign to Carina's perception of the gruff NSA agent. In all the years that she had known John Casey, he had forgone attachment to anyone, methodically doing his job with cold, calculating aloofness. To see him readily interact with such familiarity with Chuck and Sarah, albeit with his peculiar brand of John Casey humor, was quite the alien concept.

Her attention shifted once more as an unfamiliar voice sounded from the back entrance.

"Well if someone hadn't locked the design plans in the office after I specifically said not to, I wouldn't have taken five minutes bypassing the damn security system."

Casey snorted, taking a swig of his beer, tossing the last bottle to Neil. "You weren't being clear."

Neil snagged the projectile, popping the cap. "What part of 'Casey, don't close the door' is unclear?"

Sarah rolled her eyes again, glancing to Carina. "You see what I have to deal with? Five year-olds, all three of them…"

Carina glanced up at the new arrival. He wasn't quite as tall as Casey or Chuck, just a shade over six feet. He had a lean, wiry build with dark brown hair, tousled as though he had run his hands through the strands countless times and jade green eyes that hid behind thin, square-framed glasses. A dusting of stubble coated his chin and cheeks, giving him a rough, rugged appearance that contradicted the perfectly-tailored Italian suit and expensive bag hanging from one shoulder. He was cute in a boyish way. At Sarah's voice, he turned to her with a smile.

"Evening, Sarah." He stopped as his eyes flicked over to her companion. "Hello."

Sarah sighed at the blatant interest in Neil's eye. "Neil, this is Carina Lindstrom. She's a DEA agent who needs our help with a mission. Carina, Neil Grayson. He's Chuck's CIA handler."

Neil fumbled slightly as he transferred the beer bottle to his left hand, sticking his right out. "Pleased to meet you."

"Believe me," Carina cooed, and Sarah inwardly groaned the intent in her friend's voice. Carina was at it again. "The pleasure's _all_ mine."

- - -

After a rather…interesting dinner involving an endless string of innuendos concerning Chuck and the "memory bank of his laptop," Sarah gripping her butter knife a bit too hard to be eating with, and Chuck practically throwing Carina out the door so that she didn't find herself on the business end of a sharp, pointy, rather lethal object, Team Chuck gathered before the not-so super secret lair in Chuck's rather extensive study.

The screen flickered on with the brass in their normal positions, Beckman seated and Graham hovering over her. The General inclined her head to the gathered quartet.

"Good evening, team. I'm sure by now that you've made contact with Agent Lindstrom. The DEA suspects that Brazilian oil scion, Javier Varquez, has been using his contacts within his network to pass along sensitive information from his to terrorists around the world. We believe he has plans to pass American POWs along to the likes of the Taliban and others like-minded organizations."

"What kind of network are we talking about, General?" Casey asked.

Graham's rumbling voice held a touch of a deadpan air. "His cocaine network."

Beckman turned serious eyes to the quartet. "We've noticed that quite a bit of dignitaries have made their way to the Catalina area. Varquez is hosting a party on his yacht that we believe is also being used to pass a few of his cocaine deals on. That is part of Agent Lindstrom's mission. Your mission, however, is to infiltrate that party and hopefully Chuck will find and flash on the connection we need to put Varquez away."

"I hope your warm-weather best is ready," Graham remarked with a smile. "It's hailed as the party of the year."

Casey grunted, shaking his head as they cut the connection to the brass. "At least I'm not playing bartender…"

Neil smirked. "And does this mean I'm actually leaving the confines of the van?"

Sarah shook her head, glowering at the pair. "Oh, stop it. At least you get to do things on a regular basis. I haven't been active in almost four months. These types of parties are my only opportunity to get _out_ of the van!"

Casey only smirked as he backed out of the study. "That's what you get for violating the number one rule in the book, Walker. Deal with the consequences."

Neil blanched as the look in Sarah's eyes grew positively feral. "And on that note, I'm jetting before I'm collateral damage."

Chuck sighed as he held Sarah back from charging the rapidly departing Casey. "Is my white dinner jacket clean?"

Placated for the moment, Sarah nodded. "Yup. Everything's good to go." She nudged her shoulder against his. "You know what that means, right?"

Chuck groaned. Shifting slightly, he rummaged around in his pocket, pulling out his billfold. He had barely extracted his credit card before Sarah snatched it from his grasp. He stared forlornly down at the miniscule space where the magic money rectangle had once occupied before sighing.

"You know, just once, I would like to go on a mission in just a t-shirt and jeans." He wiggled his fingers, lamenting the funds that would be extracted from his bank account to pay for Sarah's gown. "That way, I could save on buying you a new dress."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Have _you_ ever heard of a blue-collar international terrorist?" She smirked. "Besides, sweetie, bonds of marriage. What's yours is mine…"

Chuck slipped his billfold, less one credit card, back into his pocket with a smile. "Knew you were only with me for my money. You gold-digger," he accused playfully.

Sarah laughed, waving the card beneath his nose. "What, you think I married you for your looks? Sorry, darling, you're not that cute without the curls."

Chuck pouted, glancing up at the accursed feature. "Curses, foiled again!" He slung an arm around her shoulders. "You ready to work with Carina?"

Sarah snorted, burrowing into the comfort of his embrace. "As much as I love her, I'm seriously afraid that I will be the cause of her death if she makes one more pass at you."

Chuck shook his head. "For the life of me, I can't figure out the basis of her attraction to me." He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, she can't possibly be turned on by my encyclopedic knowledge of the Star Wars trilogy both old and new. You sure aren't…and I'm married to you."

Sarah rolled her eyes fondly. "Geek."

"Nerd!"

- - -

Sarah sat at the vanity, putting in a pair of dangling diamond earrings before appraising herself in the mirror. Carina swept in the room from the guest room, a dark dress bordering on indecent poured over her lithe frame.

"So this is the love nest." Carina scanned the interior of the room. She could see the homey intimacy of the room with the scattered photos of Chuck, Sarah, and their children situated along the walls and atop various surfaces. "Hmmm…remarkably dull."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Hate to break it to you, but this isn't quite the den of debauchery you're surely picturing in your sick and twisted mind."

Carina shrugged. "Shame. Chuck looks like he really lets loose behind closed doors."

"Of course," Sarah deadpanned. "You should see him in his loincloth and playing Tarzan."

"Oooo," Carina cooed with a wink. "Please don't tease me, Sarah. Your hubby is one sweet piece of multibillion-dollar man-candy."

Sarah scoffed. "As morally ambiguous as I know you are, Carina, I would think even you would respect the bonds of marriage."

"Yes, it's a shame you are one person that I actually respect." Carina couldn't help but shake her head.

"Sarah Walker, domesticated and a pair of kids," she mused. "What happened to the woman who dove out of an exploding plane with me in Pakistan?"

Sarah glanced down at her hands. Idly, her fingers twirled the diamond engagement ring and matching band around their resting place on her left hand. Her eyes flicking to the family portrait that sat on the dresser, she shrugged unapologetically.

"She found a nerd who could give her everything she thought she never wanted but always dreamed."

Carina huffed out a smile. "So that's what I've been _doing_ wrong all these years…" She hitched her head back to the door. "I'm gonna wait downstairs and see if I can bag me a nerd in the process." She chuckled as a "Hands off, Carina!" floated in her wake.

Carina descended down the stairs to find Chuck already waiting at the landing. The mandated black dress slacks covered his long legs, and a white, formal dinner jacket hung snugly on his broad shoulders. He looked comfortable in the formal ensemble, far from the man who had complained his boxer shorts could be seen through his pants. Chuck glanced up from where he was fiddling with his black titanium and diamond cufflinks.

"Carina," he drawled lowly. "You look radiant."

Carina sidled close, running a finger down his jaw line. "Don't tease me, Chuck. It's been awhile since I've had a thrill."

A corner of Chuck's mouth darted upward in amusement. "Somehow I seriously doubt that…"

Carina only smiled as Chuck faltered, his eyes darting to a spot right over her shoulder. He seemed to be struck mute, his mouth sagging open and Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His breath left his lungs in a rush as his mouth curved upward in a languid smile. Carina rotated and followed his line of vision.

Sarah stood at the top of the stairs, her lean frame draped in a beautiful black evening gown, a V neckline plunging down enticingly between her breasts, decorated at the base with a diamond broach at the center of the bust. Carina followed Chuck's eyes as they traveled the length of the halter straps that connected to off-shoulder draping. She descended gracefully, coming to a halt before the pair. Sarah twirled slowly, showing off the plunging back. Chuck's features melted into an indulgent smile.

"Oh, wow…" came out in a breathless mumble.

"I take it you like what your money bought?" Sarah chided.

"Hell yes," Chuck responded.

Sarah shook her head. "So eloquent, honey. You set my heart all a-flutter."

"You know by now that's all I can muster," Chuck rejoined. "I'd rather avoid making an idiot out of myself as much as possible."

Sarah laughed softly, reaching up to straighten his bowtie and smooth down his lapels. From Carina's vantage point, the adjustment seemed extraneous to Chuck's already pristine appearance, but it seemed to be an unconscious action, almost like a ritual with the pair.

"That is why I stay silent," Sarah teased. "It wouldn't do to completely lose it just because you look the way you do in that tux."

"Hey, is that a knock to my espionage skills?"

Sarah smiled, one hand running down the plane of his chest. "You may be important in the grand scheme of things, Chuck, but your wife _is _the best, and I don't have certain advantages."

The mischievous Chuck smile made its appearance as her hands slid down to button his jacket. "What, my devastating wit and abundant charm?"

The hand braced on his chest tugged at his lapel. "Your complete inability to avoid gravity's pull."

Chuck's lips puckered as he let out a soundless, "Oooo!" slapping his palms over his heart. "That hurts."

Sarah shrugged unapologetically, patting his cheek. "The truth often does, babe."

The banter was so intimate, Carina felt she was intruding on a private moment. She had never seen Sarah so free with her emotions, so carefree. Even with Bryce, she had been hesitant with displaying sentiments, but with Chuck, everything was out in the open. The rapport between them held a quickness, familiarity and surprising warmth. The Sarah she had known before would never have been so frivolous before a mission.

"Geeze, already starting with the foreplay, and we're not even close to our location," Casey grunted, descending the stairs with Neil behind him, clad in the plain black suit and black tie. "Are you two ready to go or should I give you a minute?" His trademark feral smirk emerged. "After all, that's all he's good for."

Chuck glowered, leading Sarah out the door. "Bite me, Casey."

The hulking man huffed out a chuckle, sliding a pair of sunglasses onto his nose. "I'll pass. You're not my type, Bartowski."

Carina cocked an eyebrow, taking Neil's offered arm as they made their way to the limp parked in the circular driveway. Even Casey seemed unaffected by the repartee between Chuck and Sarah.

Neil leaned in, his voice lowered to a whisper as they walked. "Weird, isn't it?"

She tilted her head upward to meet the sparkling green eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I was thrown a bit, too," Neil remarked as though the statement explained all.

"I had heard about Sarah Walker before," Neil commented. "Everyone in the Agency has. There's so much myths and legend about the untouchable super operative: detached, calculating, emotionless, efficient. It was hard to reconcile that perception with the way she actually is now."

Carina nodded, her comprehension dawning. "You think Chuck's the cause?" She cast a glance towards the man in question. He was leading his wife to the car, her hand tucked snugly in the crook of his bent arm. They watched as Chuck's hand grasped Sarah's, pressing a kiss to the knuckles before leaning in to whisper in her ear. Sarah smiled tranquilly, gently nudging his shoulder with hers before ducking down into the limo, pulling him after her. The exchange looked so comfortable, so intimate that Carina felt compelled to look away. Her eyes met Neil's all-knowing stare.

"Cause and reason," he affirmed as the unmistakable sound of Sarah's giggle filtered through the air. "He's opened her eyes the way that no one else really could. Let her see that reality extends beyond the deep cover world. Made her want normality. Even gave her back a bit of the humanity that was lost with all the deep cover stuff."

"Do you think she's better because of it?"

Neil chose his words carefully. "It's easier to invest in a principle when you have something definitive to fight for, to protect. Makes you fight all that harder to preserve it. Having Chuck in her life made her purpose less ambiguous, more clear." He observed the tall man, reclining back in his seat, one arm slung around Sarah's shoulders.

"Chuck's one of us, but he's retained that purity, you know? That belief that despite all these bad people, the world's essentially good. It's kinda hard not to get sucked into that."

Carina could agree with that statement, sure she flirted quite shamelessly with the asset-turned-agent/multi-billionaire, but aside from the rather superficial nature of the flirtation, she could say that she genuinely liked the guy. He wasn't a slouch in the looks department and he had a way about him that made her want to trust him unconditionally. That was rare. The cause of her longevity lay in her complete inability to fully trust anyone other than herself. It had gotten her out of some pretty morbid scrapes – that, and her completely lack of shame. Her list of trusted confidants extended to a chosen few that numbered only on one hand, but she could attest her current state of living and breathing to that mild case of paranoia. But with Chuck, the trust came easy. That shook her a bit.

"They love each other," Neil asserted softly, bringing her attention back to him. "It's obvious to anyone that's ever seen them. Everything they do is with the other in mind. I know that in this line of business that it's hard to give all of yourself to one person for countless reasons, but somehow, they made it work, and they're both better for it."

Carina processed the information she had just become privy to. She had known Sarah Walker a very long time. Ever since college when they were both just starting out with their respective agencies and going through the rigors of the initial training period interspersed with mandatory college classes, they had forged a kinship that only made sense to them. Carina knew how Sarah was when it came to what she did. Simply put, she was the best, but truth be told, she wasn't all too skilled when it came to emotions. Carina had seen her invest in the rare male companion, only to have the relationship crumble when the other party became much more invested than she. Bryce was really the first person Sarah maintained a connection with and even that relationship was based on the rather superficial foundation of shared physical attraction and the intrigue of an obscure past. Six years ago, Carina could say that she was probably the one person within the business that knew the intricacies of Sarah Walker the best. Now, with everything that had just been revealed to her, Carina wasn't so sure. The Sarah Walker she knew was an untouchable when it came to deep-cover. So skilled, so efficient when it came to her work that it seemed almost otherworldly. Sarah Bartowski, on the other hand, seemed - for lack of a better term - _human_. She showed emotion, she had a weakness, and, in a way, she was more vulnerable than she had ever been. Carina looked at the cause of this transformation. His face was turned towards hers, a serene smile gracing the handsome features. She was leaning into him, snuggled into the crook of his arm, playing with the fingers of the hand resting on the knee of her crossed legs twirling the platinum wedding band as she laughed at something he said. She had seen the beginnings of what had manifested itself now in Sarah's eyes all those years ago. She really had no idea it would go as far as it had.

- - -

Chuck inclined in his chair, legs crossed and hands folded in his lap, a picture of calm nonchalance. He seemed wholly unconcerned at the fact he and Sarah were confined to a pair of armchairs, guns trained on them with Carina currently incapacitated from her spot right behind them, her hands bound and hanging from a pole.

The mission had started normally with Team Chuck and Carina gaining entrance relatively easy, but everything had rapidly gone south when Carina made one of her trademark rash decisions and attempted to break into the room housing both the disk that held the plans to both Varquez's cocaine deals as well as his dealings that would transport American POWs into the clutches of foreign enemies for their sinister pleasure. Of course, that set off the silent alarm, causing a stream of Brazilian henchmen, Varquez in tow, to stream in, leaving one-half of Team Chuck and their surrogate member in a rather sticky situation.

Sarah surveyed their circumstances swiftly as Chuck engaged Varquez. She noted with satisfaction that Carina's hands were tied with rope rather than shackled and the knot that held her to the pole was visible. She and Chuck both had guns holding them in place but the other men have any weaponry in plain sight. She returned her attention to her husband in full agent-mode, confidence simply oozing out of his blasé posture.

"Now, Mr. Varquez," Chuck cautioned, looking for all the world like a man sitting down for coffee with an old friend. "Let's talk about this rationally. We wouldn't want the situation to get hostile, would we?"

Varquez crossed his arms over his chest, scoffing derisively. "Mr. Montgomery, I don't think you're in a position to negotiate. I have you surrounded by ten men, all of whom are armed."

Chuck smirked, his head rotating slowly to study the room. "Huh," he remarked, a dangerous glint to his eye, "so you do." He returned a cold stare to the man opposite him.

"Hardly fair to you."

Carina observed the scene with an expression torn between curiosity and arousal. He was so smooth, so confident. It was hot.

"What, you think you and your little bimbo over there can take all of us?" Varquez leaned in, arms braced on Chuck's chair practically nose to nose with the other man as he cast a quick leer to the woman to his right. "I didn't know they taught martial arts in Trophy Wife School."

Chuck didn't answer, only allowed his eyes to lazily span over to Sarah as well. "What do you say, honey?"

Sarah kept her own gaze to Varquez, the sapphire spheres glittering heatedly. "Six," she uttered softly before turning to her husband.

Chuck's eyes flicked downward before winking roguishly. "Four."

A non-verbal agreement passed between the pair before they moved in complete unison. Chuck thrust his forehead forward, head butting Varquez squarely on the bridge of his nose. The smaller man stumbled back, and Chuck batted the gun pointed at him to the side, rising swiftly to fell the man with a right cross as Sarah braced her hands on the arm of her chair, her legs wind milling out to land a kick on the nearest man. Chuck snatched the disk from his attacker, tossing it to his wife before he thrust a foot forward, sending his chair into the knees of another charging assailant. As Sarah whirled, sending one of her throwing knives into the knot above Carina's hands, severing the binding, Chuck took three long strides, leaping off the chair cushion and taking down two with a split kick. He bent over, allowing Sarah to roll over his back before ducking beneath a punch. Catching the arm as it flew by, Chuck pushed his left hand forward, breaking the elbow. A chop to the throat brought the man to his knees and a right jab felled his assailant. Rotating around to cover his wife's back, he halted one man with a roundhouse kick before sending him stumbling to Sarah who knocked him out with an elbow to the head. Catching another attempting to sneak up behind Chuck, Sarah took a running leap, springing off Chuck's braced hands as he propelled her forward, a knifing kick sending the man sprawling.

Carina couldn't help but observe the scene with amazement. Chuck and Sarah moved together with a seamlessness that made Bryce and Sarah seem like absolute chaos. There was complete trust in their movements, an almost unconscious awareness of the other that translated into a superb fighting team. In the blink of an eye, Chuck and Sarah stood alone amidst the strewn bodies. Buttoning up his jacket and adjusting his cufflinks, Chuck composed himself before striding straight to Varquez still cradling his nose. Grabbing the much smaller man by the lapels, Chuck bodily lifted him and deposited him down into the chair. A forward flick of his arm found his Walther semi-automatic in his hand and pressed right between Varquez's forehead.

"Now, Mr. Varquez, that was quite rude. I believe you owe my wife an apology."

Resigned to his predicament, Varquez bit out his apology. "I'm sorry."

Sarah unleashed a vicious crescent kick, knocking Varquez unconscious. She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. "Apology accepted."

Chuck smirked. "That was so hot." He extended an arm, baring his watch as his eyes glanced down to the face before a triumphant shout permeated the room.

"Ha! I win!"

Sarah's gaze snapped his way, eyes wide with disbelief. "No way!"  
Chuck thrust the timepiece to his wife, the minute hand moved over four lines. "Four minutes almost to the second."

Sarah wrinkled her nose, running a finger through her bangs. "Doesn't count."

Chuck recoiled in surprise. "What are you talking about? It always counts!"

"It didn't count on the Granderson case!" Sarah argued staunchly, hands braced on her hips.

"That's because the guy was monologuing!" Chuck protested. "I wasn't gonna give it to you because the guy spent at least five minutes telling us about his brilliant plan before Neil knee-capped him."

"It was three minutes," Sarah retorted.

"It was still a monologue," Chuck countered. "He was practically standing on a lectern in his mind."

Sarah huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine."

Chuck smirked. "I believe that puts me in the lead."

"Wouldn't if you counted the Granderson case," Sarah grumbled.

Chuck didn't reply, simply stuck out his tongue. Instead, he turned his attention to Carina who had untwined the ropes from her wrists.

"You okay?"

"Other than my pride being a bit wounded, I'm fine," she responded. She eyed the pair expectantly. "I gather you have what we came for?"

Chuck nodded, he plucking the disk from his wife's fingers, securing it in his breast pocket. "Yup, let's go. Casey's already sending the cleanup crew down." He wiggled slightly, resisting the urge for his hand to drift down to his rear end. "That split kick gave me a wedgie."

- - -

"Well, that was fun, as always," Carina remarked. "Looks like daily life with you isn't as boring as I thought."

Chuck shook his head. "Nah, this was a pretty exciting day. Not much comes between teaching classes at the university or managing a multibillion-dollar corporation."

"You've changed, Chuck." Carina swept a lustful gaze up and down his form. She had to admit, the tuxedo had looked very good on him. James Bond had nothing on Chuck Bartowski. "Or should I call you Charles?"

Chuck smiled, shaking his head. "Chuck's fine."

"Well, _Chuck_, my offer still stands from our last encounter. I have the same hotel room. Perhaps you would like to and help me fix my…problem."

Chuck smirked indulgently, his next statement strongly reminiscent from their first encounter. "As flattered and still intimidated as I still am, I'm still gonna have to pass. Dare I ask why me?"

Carina shrugged, planting herself firmly in his personal space. "Well, the haircut is a big improvement, plus there's the whole billionaire thing, but I can't deny I still don't love taking what Sarah wants."

"You do realize I'm not just what Sarah wants anymore, right?" Chuck ventured. "I'm what she has."

"Hmm, you really have changed," Carina purred. "It's hot." She gave a sad shrug. "Oh well. Want to take bets on how long it will take for me to get Neil back to my hotel room?"

"Depends on if you plan on handcuffing him to the bed in his boxers or something a bit less constricting," Chuck quipped. "Something tells me he won't be open to the former."

"Chuck, didn't know you were so adventurous," Carina leered, running a finger over his pectorals. "Perhaps Sarah does have it right. Oh well. Your loss."

With one final wave, she meandered over to Sarah where the blonde was standing by a brunette woman that looked like Chuck whom Carina deduced from the obvious that she was Chuck's sister. Sarah smiled as the baby in the brunette's arms stretched arms out for his mother.

"There's my big boy!"

Sarah hefted Landon into her arms, thanking Ellie before she disappeared through the door. The infant squirmed and giggled in his mother's hold as she rained kisses onto his chubby cheeks.

"Were you good for Aunt Ellie?"

The infant babbled in a cacophony of noise that was more than likely in the affirmative, and Carina watched the exchange with fascination, settling down beside Sarah on the couch. The moment they had eclipsed the boundaries of the Bartowski stronghold, Sarah had transitioned from Super CIA Agent Sarah Walker to Sarah Bartowski, loving mother. Sarah seemed so natural with the baby in her arms and painted quite the attractive picture that she was hard pressed to appease the image of her friend to this present manifestation now. She had a child, two children actually, an actual product of genetics between Sarah and Chuck. It was mind boggling. Carina could see the boy took the majority of his looks from Chuck in his dark hair and dark eyes, but she could also see a few of Sarah's characteristics shine through in subtle elements of his facial structure. Sarah jiggled the boy, turning him slightly to face Carina.

"Say hi to Carina, Landon!"

The boy obliged, waving one tiny hand with the assistance of his mother and his deep brown eyes lit up as he unleashed a scarily potent smile that made her take serious pause. Much like her counterpart, Carina had taken pains to erect a strong barrier around her heart for her own protection, but it had taken a good second for it to go from ice to a pile of mush the moment that charming Bartowski grin was trained on her. She felt the havoc the truly amazing pull childlike innocence could wreak on even the most jaded of individuals. She glanced over to where Chuck was playing with his daughter, delighting in the child's melodic giggles and shrieks. Even Casey was getting into the action, making faces at the small girl, index fingers tickling her sides and stomach.

"Motherhood suits you," Carina commented as Sarah adjusted Landon in her lap. "You look like you've been doing this all your life."

Sarah barked out a laugh, playing with the diminutive hand in her grasp. "I was scared shitless when I found out I was pregnant and even more so when Landon made his surprise entrance. I didn't think I was ready to be a mother," she mused, "especially not with the things I had seen and done."

Carina cocked her head. "So what changed?"

Sarah shrugged. "The kids," she answered simply. "I remember when they were born, and I held them in my arms…I looked into Maddie's eyes and knew I'd do anything and everything to make sure they wouldn't be exposed to this life."

Sarah ran a palm over Landon's fine strands of hair. "And I knew I'd have Chuck with me the whole way."

"So you don't mind being domesticated?"  
Sarah chuckled, wincing slightly as Landon grabbed a handful of her hair, tugging playfully. "No. Not at all."

"Well, can't say I entirely blame you," Carina remarked. "Chuck turned out to be a vast improvement over Bryce."

"Paws off, Carina," Sarah warned, not quite sure how much of an impact her warning would make on her rather persistent friend.

"No harm in looking, Sarah," Carina placated her. "After all, you don't share."

"Not him," Sarah affirmed strongly.

Carina shrugged. "Pity. Something tells me that your Chuck might get a bit of a thrill from one night with me."

Sarah smirked. "And that's why he hasn't responded to you. You don't know him like I do."

Carina allowed the comment to roll off her back, knowing the truth in the statement. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm happy for you. You deserve this."

Sarah softened, inclining her head. "Thanks, Carina."

The tender moment passed as Carina's expression grew downright wicked. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll work my wiles on the other member of your team."

"I think Casey's finally wised up to you, Carina," Sarah mused with a smile.

Carina only tilted her head, sauntering off. "Who said I was talking about Casey?"

- - -

"Hey."

Sarah smiled as her husband's arm made its way to its relegated spot around her shoulders. "Hey."

"You seemed to have fun out there."

Sarah quirked an eyebrow. "Chuck, we faced down ten men, all of whom were armed and could have easily wounded either one of us. You should know by now that's hardly what I consider fun."

Chuck seemed to waver before mumbling in a voice Sarah had to strain to hear. "It was once."

Whether he had meant for her to hear that or not, she did and cocked her head up at him. "What do you mean by that?"

Chuck shrugged. "I mean…well, with Carina here, it really made me think. That was how your life used to be, you know?" His free hand came up to scratch the base of his neck. "You used to live for that stuff."

Sarah nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know." She eyed him carefully. "I'm guessing you have a point."

The tip of a tooth emerged as he bit on his bottom lip, a clear sign of his hesitance. "Don't you miss it?"

"At times, yes," Sarah admitted candidly. "It's not easy going from the best at what you do to being confined in a van for most missions, but there is something I have now that my old life was sorely lacking."

Chuck smiled. "What, a high-benefit insurance plan?"

Sarah swatted at him. "No, smartass, a family." Her voice softened with emotion. "Chuck, you gave me this amazing, beautiful family. Yes, I miss the thrill of deep cover work, but what we've built together means so much more to me than that. I would never trade that for anything in the world."

Chuck dipped his head down, nodding in agreement. "Me neither." He glanced around at their home. "You, the kids, Casey, Neil…they're all a part of this family. It's the dream that I've always wanted."

Sarah frowned, casting a glance around the room. "Speaking of…where is Neil?"

The pair scanned a room, noticing his absence as well as the absence of a certain DEA agent. Both realized that they hadn't seen either in quite a while. A look passed between them before they rotated, dashing to the car, hollering to Casey to watch the twins. A quick drive brought them to Carina's hotel and an even quicker flash of federal identification gave them the room number of one Carina Lindstrom.

Chuck and Sarah hovered at the door, a bit hesitant at what they would find. Gathering up courage, they slunk into the room, guns drawn. With Carina, one never really knew. Both relaxed as they found the final member of their team bound and gagged to the headboard, more or less unharmed. A thin sheet thankfully protected his modesty, and he wiggled slightly in his bonds.

Sarah sighed. "When will they ever learn?"

Chuck approached the bed, hooking one finger in the bandana and pulling the gag down. "Neil, buddy, are you okay?"

Neil's jaw worked for a moment, getting the kinks out from their position before his mouth split into a delighted smile. "I really hate to sound like the good Captain right now, but dude, that was _awesome_!"

Chuck and Sarah dissolved into laughter, leaning against each other for support. Some things really never changed.

_And cut! Hope you all enjoyed that one. I think Carina is such an interesting character and quite the foil to Sarah. I wasn't too sure about this chapter because I didn't know if the direction I took with it was completely random. Hopefully it wasn't, and hopefully you still enjoyed it even if it was. On a completely different note, I'm glad that the response so far has been positive for the twins, because that makes me much more comfortable posting the next two chapters. The next two chapters are going to focus solely on the twins and their adventures growing up. First, we have Landon and what happens when develops an interest in football. Then, we have Madeline and how Chuck doesn't take her first date and the prospect of many more to come very well…Stay tuned._

_Roxy_


	8. Chuck vs the Chastity Belt

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing_

**Rating:** _K+_

**Summary:** _Madeline Bartowski wasn't supposed to date until she was thirty. Yeah, that turned out great…_

**Timeline:** _The twins are thirteen, Grady is seven, and Shane is five._

**Alternate Characters:**

_Joel McKenzie – hapless suitor who has the misfortune of being Maddie's first ever date._

_Kenneth Yorke, Caitlin Bryant, Janine Powers, and Peter Truaux – classmates and friends of Maddie and Joel out with a date with them._

_Cooper Shaw – owner and operator of shooting range Chuck and Casey go to. Former Marine and old friend of Casey._

_Okay, folks. Just like I promised, this is the beginning of a short series of fics focused primarily on the twins and Chuck and Sarah reacting to certain momentous occasions in their lives. I am actually switching it up so that Maddie gets to go first because I really like the dynamics that are in this chapter. It's not mission-oriented but family-oriented, and I realize I haven't really done a chapter with Chuck as a parental figure and interacting with the kids. So here is a remedy for that. I love this chapter; it was my personal favorite to write, and I think this one really illustrates the essence of Parenthood and its universe._

_Oh, and that reminds me, one reviewer pointed out that I had slightly altered the Parenthood universe to accommodate the revelations we have in Season 2, and that is very true. I'm finding that I really like the direction the writers are taking with certain elements and will be working in many different aspects of the current season into the Parenthood universe. That being said, things like Graham blowing up can't really be changed since I've referenced him in chapters that have already spanned a decade from the first season. However, things like Roan Montgomery, Sarah's dad as a con man and Graham recruiting Sarah into the CIA can and probably will be utilized._

_Also, minor change I forgot to mention last chapter: changed the names of Chuck and Sarah's dogs from Boston and Yankee to Boston and Bronx. Trivial, but still a continuity error…_

_And thanks to IllusionedDreamer for the comments!_

_Anyway, enjoy!_

**Chapter 8**

_Chuck vs. the Chastity Belt_

Excerpt from Sensory Perception

"_Hello, gorgeous. I'm your Daddy. Listen, kiddo, here's the deal. If you're anything like your mom, you're gonna be a knockout and I've gotta feeling I'm gonna have a helluva time beating all the boys away with a stick. So you wanna do me a favor and keep the boys to a bare minimum? I don't think I can handle that stress. Me and Mommy know a lot of ways to hurt people, but we all know I'm kind of a softy. I'll only threaten them. But I'll tell you this, if anyone tries to hurt you or your brother, that shot Mommy's always bragging I've got, well, I'll put it to good use…" Chuck returns his eyes to his daughter, running one hand over her dark curls. "Whattya say, Maddie? You don't date till you're thirty and I'll keep you safe?"_

_In response, Madeline yawns, nuzzling into her father's shirt, taking the same comfort her mother does from his distinct scent. Chuck takes that gesture as acquiescence, and grins. "Alright, sounds good."_

- - -

Chuck Bartowski cursed genetics. First, they had given him a mop of formerly untamable curly hair, then his rapid growth spurt during puberty courtesy of his parent's combined height produced a lanky body and prolonged awkward phase, giving him an ungainly, bumbling lack of coordination that hadn't quite remedied itself until Casey and Sarah had literally trained it out of him. Then, he had the misfortune to fall in love with one Sarah Walker. Beautiful, graceful, gorgeous Sarah Walker. Their insatiable passion and had produced a pair of beautiful twins: Landon Charles and Madeline Eleanor, another boy, Grady John, and two years later, their youngest child, Shane Morgan. Yes, Chuck cursed genetics. Because it was the combination of his genes and Sarah's that had given Madeline the same beauty her mother possessed. It was Bartowski Law Number One: Bartowski women bloomed to be beautiful and only grew more beautiful. That was truly the case with Maddie. And just like Sarah, no man could resist the wiles of Madeline Eleanor Bartowski when she turned those big blue eyes and Bartowski smile in their direction. Ever since Maddie popped into the world, Chuck feared for the havoc his firstborn would wreak on the general population, and soon enough, he found himself facing the most dreaded event in his teenagers' budding lives.

Maddie's first date.

- - -

A sextet of men stood situated in the center of the foyer in the Bartowski house. They seemed like a motley crew or a police lineup, matching stances and matching scowls, all casting disgruntled gazes to the staircase leading up to the second floor waiting for the imminent arrival.

Neil shook his head, leaning over to the man at the head of the line. "This isn't right."

Morgan nodded his agreement. "She's like a fledgling, she isn't ready. She is still on the cusp of womanhood, the brink of the –"

Chuck cut his best friend off, his scowl deepening. "We get it, Morgan."

Devon's perpetually cocked eyebrow held a potent distaste for the situation at hand. "Dude, this is so _not_ awesome."

"Dude!" The tinny voice of one seven year-old Grady Bartowski echoed his uncle's sentiment from just around his father's knee, and Shane mimicked his older brother's affirming nod.

"Kid's got a point." Casey's characteristic glower seemed almost down right predatory in its intensity. "I don't like this, Chuckles. She's too young."

Chuck didn't refute the statement, knowing the truth behind Casey's words. He only turned to Neil. "Did we do a background check on this clown?"

Neil nodded sullenly. "Yep. No priors, nothing shady. Decent grades, no trouble."

"Still sounds kinda suspicious to me," Casey growled.

"I agree," Devon added. "I don't think we should let her do this. It's too soon."

The front door slammed, ending all discussion, sending an ominous hush running through the group as all seven gazes snapped to the foyer, readying for the inevitable. All seven relaxed as Landon strode through the door, helmet and shoulder pads in his hand and cleats dangling from his shoulders, his hair in sweat-slicked disarray. Catching all four of his uncles plus his father and younger brothers hovering in the foyer, Landon halted, a confused glint in his dark eyes as he recoiled back at the harsh stares. His gaze swept over the heads before plummeting down to the two younger males.

"What's with the presence of Team Bartowski?"

"Maddie's going out on a date," Chuck grunted.

Landon's nose wrinkled. "Really?"

"You didn't know?"

A corner of Landon's mouth quirked upward. "No offense, Dad, but my sister's love life is something I wish to be completely ignorant of." He cocked his head. "Who with?"

"Joel McKenzie," Chuck answered in another grunt strongly reminiscent of Casey. "You know him?"

Landon rolled his eyes. "Yeah. He's a doof."

"'Doof?'" Chuck repeated, one eyebrow arching in amusement. "I don't speak teen, buddy."

"Dumb goof," Landon explained in a deadpan. "If I were the type, I would make sure he never had children…ever. It would be considered a crime to humanity if Joel McKenzie reproduced."

If Chuck was wary about the boy his daughter was going out with, the description from his son did nothing to ease his apprehension. "What, he's like a jerk?"

Landon shrugged. "He's an arrogant little snot." He ran a hand through his hair. "He's harmless, but that doesn't mean I'd deny the chance to put a tire iron to his knee cap."

Chuck's second eyebrow joined his first in a skyward ascent. "So what exactly does Maddie see in him?"

"Since when has the popular guy been decent?" Landon posed rhetorically. "He's not that bad looking, I guess, and he's supposedly a pretty good catch according to Pennington gossip, but for all I know, she sees free movie and dinner." Landon shrugged. "Heck, I'd endure an evening with him if that was the case and he was my type."

Chuck scowled. "Cute…"

Landon smirked as he ascended up the stairs. "C'mon, Dad, you had to have known this would come eventually. I mean, it _is_ Maddie."

"Doesn't mean I can't stop it from happening again," Chuck mumbled as his son disappeared up into his room. He clamped his mouth shut as Sarah appeared out of the doorway to Maddie's bedroom, hands on her hips and staring down at the collection of men in her foyer. With a shake of her head, she descended down the stairs, coming to a stop before them, her eyes flashing with irritation.

"Okay, you five. Stop it. This is my baby's first date with a boy, and none of you are going to ruin it for her. That means no interrogations," she poked an authoritative finger in Chuck's chest, "no threats with surgical instruments," Awesome lofted his hands defensively, "no ridiculous weirdness," Morgan rocked back on his heels, hands behind his back, a picture of innocence, "no attempted stakeouts," Neil coughed slightly before Sarah turned her attention to Casey who, true to form, glowered right back, "and no talk of Second Amendment rights."

Sarah leveled all five with a harsh glare. "Do I make myself clear?"

Suitably chastised, five heads hung down to five chests as an affirmative chorus drifted from sheepish lips. "Yes, ma'am."

As Sarah's sapphire spheres scanned over each man, it drifted down, narrowing as she spotted her two youngest children innocently amongst their uncles. "I hate to break it to you five geniuses, but missing teeth and snot noses do not make for a very intimidating team."

Chuck shrugged unapologetically. "What? Grady's got a really good mean face and Shane bites really hard. You have to use your resources, babe."

Sarah didn't respond, only leveling her husband with a stern stare. "I am going to make sure Maddie's set. Joel should be here any minute." She cast one more warning glance to the quintet of men. "Behave."

Casey watched his partner leave, turning to Chuck with a sardonic smirk. "Well done, Bartowski. Your balls still intact?"

Chuck huffed out a snort. "I'll call you when I get 'em back first, Casey."

His head whipped to the front door as the ringing chime of their doorbell sounded. Moving in unison, Team Bartowski tensed and resumed their positions, glares fixated on surly faces.

Chuck readied himself as he strode to the door. Grasping onto a handle of the double doors, he yanked open the entrance with a firm tug. His jaw set, he gazed down at the boy hapless enough to ask his daughter on a date. The boy was moderately tall, a bit shorter than Landon, and of medium build. He was good-looking in a preppy sort of way, his fair skin tanned from the California sun. His golden hair was bleached from the sun in the long, layered manner the kids were sporting lately and impeccably styled with not a strand out of place. Both his polo shirt with its popped collar and sneakers were way too clean to be that way naturally and were of an expensive, designer brand, and his jeans were…_pressed_? Chuck's lip fought the urge to curl as the young teenager shot out what he surely thought was a charming smile as he extended a hand.

"Hello, Mr. Montgomery. I'm Joel McKenzie. I'm here to take Madeline out."

The haughty, pompous mannerisms of the teenager irked Chuck as he glowered down at the young man, taking his hand and responding with a firm grip and brisk pump. "She's not ready yet." Chuck stepped back, allowing the boy entrance and waving him to the living room.

"Come in. Have a seat."

Joel obliged, shuffling through the door and into the sprawling house. As he entered, he passed a quartet of men who followed his every move before joining Mr. Montgomery in the living room. Moving over to the couch, he sank down on the sofa, warily eyeing the gathering of very scary-looking males surrounding him. Chuck reclined back in an armchair straight across from Joel's position on the couch. He was flanked by the Uncle Brigade on either side.

"These are Maddie's uncles," Chuck gestured to each man in turn, "Devon, Neil, Morgan, and Casey."

Joel jerkily inclined his head, feeling a bit of anxiety build behind his arrogance. Three of the men looked as though they could very easily tear him limb from limb, and one was making a rather animalistic noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. The other guy, the shortest of the four, wasn't as muscular, but had a wild look to his blue eyes that was a bit more than unnerving. Joel cleared his throat, hoping he didn't sound as frightened as he felt.

"Hi."

Chuck propped his ankle on his knee, eyeing the teenager closely. "So what do you have planned tonight, Joel?"

Joel hesitated, choosing his words carefully. Maddie's father was a very formidable figure with his tall stature and obviously fit build as his muscles strained against the V-neck sweater. Everyone at Pennington Preparatory Academy knew about the famous Charles Montgomery and his software company. He was the wealthiest father in the school and carried a lot of pull in the surrounding community. Mr. Montgomery was hailed as one of the biggest computer geeks in the world, but there was something behind the lofty frame that made Joel believe there was something more to the man than just an insane amount of technological knowledge. Mr. Montgomery's tone was amiable, but for some reason, that's what scared him the most.

"Uhm…we're going to a movie then dinner at a pizza place."

"Where?"

"Luigi's by the theatre," Joel answered.

"And is anyone else joining you?"

Joel didn't hasten to respond in case his hesitation would be misunderstood as a lie. "Uh, yeah. Two other couples."

His response seemed to placate the elder man as he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on jean-covered knees.

"Okay, let me lay down some ground rules, Joel." The younger boy nodded as those deep, dark eyes bore into him relentlessly. Joel didn't know how he did it, but Mr. Montgomery's eyes seemed to glitter dangerously.

"My little girl is nothing short of a goddess and you will treat her as so. You are to keep all mobile body parts to yourself. If there is any need at all to touch my daughter, you will keep your hands to respectable places. You will have her home at ten o'clock, sharp. A millisecond after that, and I will make sure any thoughts of a second date will be the furthest thing from your mind. Understood?"

Any bravado Joel felt fled with his composure as he seemed to shrink down in his seat. "Yes, Mr. Montgomery."

"Do you know what the Second Amendment is, Joel?"

Joel audibly gulped, fingers gripping fingers tightly in an attempt to stop the quivering that wracked his body. "Y-yes, sir."

"If my daughter so much as hints that something is wrong the moment she steps through that door, you will feel the full effects of my Constitutional rights."

His voice lowered to a tight whisper. "Are we clear?"

By this time, Joel was visibly trembling, his eyes wild with fear. He nodded vigorously. "Y-yes, sir, M-mr. Montgomery, sir."

Mr. Montgomery nodded himself in satisfaction. His tone lightened again to a conversational lilt that still held all of the weight.

"You know, Joel, I'm aware that I am an influential man. But I worked hard to get where I am today, and I operate off a very simple principle." Chuck paused, rising to his feet. From Joel's perspective, the man's six foot-plus height seemed even taller. "That's to give back what you receive in return." Chuck circled around to the younger man, bracing his arms on the back of the sofa. "I find that if you are generous to the people around you, they offer favors in return, and if you're generous to the right people, they can make things happen. Things that aren't always on the…right side of things, if you catch my drift." Mr. Montgomery threw out a charming smile, clapping the younger boy on the arm as he returned to the center of a Maddie's uncles. Try as he might, Joel couldn't help but flinch at the contact.

"Don't make me call in any favors, Joel. It's a messy business."

Joel let out a nervous laugh. He had a feeling it was a rather elaborate and terrifying ruse, but he wouldn't put it past the man. Joel gulped, shifting anxiously in his seat.

"Yes, sir."

Any further interrogations were halted as Maddie appeared in the doorway of the living room, Sarah right behind her.

"Hey, Joel, are you ready?"

"Yes!" Joel practically bolted from the sofa, not even bothering to hide the falsetto his voice had taken. "Yes!"

Maddie nodded, throwing out a radiant smile that had all her uncles melting just a tiny bit.

"Bye, Uncle Awesome!"

Devon pressed a kiss to his niece's cheek, attempting to put her in a headlock that she danced away from, swatting him playfully. "Maddie, keep it kosher…"

"Uncle Morgan."

Morgan grinned at the young girl, already catching up to him in height, surely to surpass him and reach Sarah within the year. He wrapped her in a hug, rubbing his beard against her cheek amidst her giggles. "Peace, kiddo."

"Uncle Neil."

Neil drew her to his side, kissing her temple. "See you later, sweetie."

Maddie stopped in front of the final man, hands planted on her hips. She stared hard, glowering as he glared right back before her face split into the biggest smile yet, and she leaped, laughing as he caught her. Now eye level with the hulking man, Maddie knocked her forehead against his. "Uncle Casey."

Casey's face softened in a way that only Maddie could provoke as he bent down slightly, laying a short kiss to her hair. "Remember those moves I taught you, munchkin…"

Maddie rolled her eyes fondly at her favorite uncle, extracting her arms from around his neck. "Yes, Uncle Casey…"

She stopped before Sarah. "Bye, Mom."

Sarah leaned down, cupping her daughter's face as she smacked a kiss to her cheek. "Have a fun, baby."

Finally, Maddie stopped before her father, wrapping her arms around his waist. Those big, blue doe eyes gazed up at him with the adoration only a Daddy's girl could accomplish. "Bye, Daddy."

Chuck looked at his daughter, all of thirteen, and a torrent of emotions whirled behind his carefully impassive visage. This wasn't the little girl who loved prancing around the house in her Cinderella costume long after Halloween. This was the burgeoning young woman who stood before him in a pair of skinny black jeans, a lacy white tank top beneath a dark grey cardigan cropped sweater and Vans flats, her dark chocolate curls cascading elegantly down her back, sideswept bangs falling artfully tousled across her forehead, and royal blue eyes highlighted through the light makeup and framed by long, luscious eyelashes. This wasn't the tyke who loved to mimic Daddy with the seriousness only a child could muster. This was the young woman who had her own style, her own interests. As he looked at his baby girl, not so much of a child anymore, he remembered the old Kenny Chesney song and realized with a heavy heart: he blinked.

"Bye, Tigger." He reached into his wallet and extracted a few bills, handing them to her. "For an emergency. Ten o'clock, okay?"

Maddie nodded as she placed the money in her wallet, slinging a purse onto her shoulder and stretched up to kiss her father. "Alright, Daddy." She rotated as footsteps thundered on the stairs, and Landon appeared at the base, fresh from his shower as evidenced in the sheen to his hair.

"Aw, bro, rushing to see me off?"

Landon smirked. "Don't flatter yourself, sis," he rejoined, the barb holding nothing but affection. "Just wanted to check out the lunkhead dumb enough to want to go out with you." He squared up to Joel, appraising at the shorter boy with a careful eye. He inclined his head.

"McKenzie."

Joel returned the nod, hating the fact he had to look up to the other boy. "Bartowski."

Landon didn't say anything more, only conveyed everything through the glint in his dark eyes. Finally, he released Joel from the relentless stare, backing away and giving his sister a hug.

"Have fun, Pinky."

Maddie laughed at the inside joke between the pair. "Thanks, Brain." She turned a beaming smile to her date. "C'mon, Joel, let's go."

All too eager to escape the smoldering stares burned in his direction, Joel didn't resist as he was pulled along by the sleeve, throwing a farewell over his shoulder.

"Nice to meet you all."

Casey's icy glower followed Madeline as she grabbed the teenager's hand, his own hand inching back to the Beretta perpetually at his waistband. Sarah caught his movement, reaching out to swipe the firearm from Casey's grasp. Quicker than the eye could follow, she holstered the piece at the small of her back and cuffed the bigger man upside the head with a stern glare. Having the grace to look at least slightly abashed, Casey only crossed his arms across his chest, his glare darkening as Joel held out a hand to help Madeline into the van.

"I still don't like this, Chuck," he growled, turning to the man beside him.

Chuck sighed, "Me, either, Casey. Me, either."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Men. I'm going to the study to grade some papers." She shot a pointed look to the men. "God help me if I hear something I really don't want to hear."

As she disappeared upstairs, Casey's blue eyes sparkled with intent and his mouth quirked up mysteriously. "Well…I've got a hankering for Italian, Chuckles. What about you?"

Chuck cocked an eyebrow, catching on quickly. "Pizza?"

"Meat Lover's," Casey affirmed.

"And I think I know just the place," Chuck remarked. "Right off of Main and Figueroa. Real close to the downtown movie theatre." He cast a glance at the remaining trio listening with interest.

"Boys?"

Neil, Morgan, and Awesome all nodded simultaneously. Chuck narrowed his eyes, inclining his head. "Let's do this."

Landon only shook his head at the antics of his father and uncles. Turning to the staircase, he muttered under his breath. "This isn't gonna be good…"

- - -

It looked like something out of a bad spy movie with the big, black van idle on the side of the road. From the inside, Chuck, Casey, and Neil worked the electronics while Morgan and Devon provided video feed from their concealed positions across the street from the pizza place.

Neil squinted as the computer read the feed transmitted from Morgan and Devon. Inside the restaurant, Maddie and Joel sat at a round booth with four other teenagers. "We have visual."

Chuck typed in a code to the computer, staring intently at the screen. He watched as a square focused on each person with Maddie and Joel, computer scanning the faces before him and feeding to findings to Casey on the other side of the van.

"Who we got, Casey?"

"We have a Yorke, Kenneth Arthur, a Bryant, Caitlin Rebecca, a Powers, Janine Leslie, and a Truaux, Peter Michael."

Chuck nodded, his fingers typing out the names onto the screen before him. "Okay…" He nodded as the profiles of each kid flashed on the screen. "Yorke…that's David's boy. He's a good kid. A bit dense, but well-meaning. Bryant…she's on the cheerleading squad with Maddie. Powers…her father works with Ellie and Awesome and chances are she's gonna go into the same field."

"Why?" Casey asked. "She one of those 'follow Mommy and Daddy or I don't get my trust fund' types?

"Nope," Chuck rebutted. "Maddie's been to her house a lot of times. Says she already has a full set of mock surgical instruments and her celebrity crush is Derek Shepherd of that old TV show _Grey's Anatomy_."

Neil cocked an eyebrow. "Don't you mean the guy who played him? Patrick Dempsey?"

"No," Chuck corrected. "I mean Derek Shepherd." He moved to the final boy. "Truaux…" he shot a glance to Casey over his shoulder. "Isn't that the kid who was stupid enough to try to make a pass at Sarah during the kids' eleventh birthday party?"

Casey shot out a barking laugh. "I remember that little perv!" Casey shook his head. "Squealed like a stuck pig when I tossed him out by his collar and belt buckle."

Neil shook his finger. "Hey, didn't he even throw out some lame ass pick up line?"

Chuck laughed. "Yeah! Wasn't it one of those about heaven?"

Casey grunted. "It was 'Are you an angel? Because this must be heaven.'"

Chuck shook his head. "Kids these days. No imagination. Have to take from the classics."

The trio halted as the ominous ringtone filtered through the silence. They all knew that ringtone. It was Sarah's personal ringtone.

Chuck shuffled around, extracting his BlackBerry from his pocket. He glanced down to see his wife's picture flash upon the screen. He weighed the costs and benefits of answering knowing that either answering or ignoring the call would prove to be possibly detrimental to his immediate health. A muffled curse filtered from his mouth before his finger accepted the call.

"Hey, honey!"

The ire in Sarah's voice was palpable. "Don't you 'hey, honey!' me, Chuck. Where are you?"

If Chuck had never known anything about being a spy, he knew one of the most fundamental rules of espionage: when in a pickle, DENY.

"Dobbler's," he answered smoothly, naming the pub he and the Uncle Brigade frequented. "Drowning our denial in Johnny Walker and Malibu for Morgan."

"And how are you getting home?" Sarah posed. "I know you are not leaving that truck at Dobbler's when you know the chances of Rick taking it out on a joyride."

Chuck winced, glancing to his immediate right where the good Captain was hanging almost invisibly from a tree. "Devon…"

"Nice try, Chuck, but you and I both know that Awesome can't ever say no to their Jagbomb Explosion." Sarah's voice lowered to a hiss. "Now, I'm gonna ask again. Where. Are. You?"

As though he was under the influence of that truth serum again, Chuck blurted out the answer, knowing prolonging the inevitable would probably end with him on the couch.

"Luigi's."

"Call me crazy, but isn't that the pizza place Maddie and Joel were going with their friends?"

Trying to salvage what was left of his masculine dignity, Chuck once again attempted another fib. "Now, I would never call you crazy, honey, but there is another Luigi's at the corner of Broadway and –"

"Chuck!"

"Alright! Damn, woman! Yes!"

Sarah was silent for a long moment before he could hear her let out a long, suffering breath, and when she spoke, her tone was carefully controlled. "Charles Irving Bartowski, if you're not home in ten minutes, I swear, don't even worry about getting that vasectomy, you are cut off for the rest of our lives!"

Resigned to his fate, Chuck dropped his head to his chest, venturing meekly, "Yes, dear…"

Hanging up the phone, Chuck sighed and opened up the communication's link.

"Nerd Herd to Beard Boy and Awesome."

Static crackled through the van before Morgan answered, followed closely by Devon.

_Beard Boy, here._

_Dr. Awesome, here._

"Abort mission. I repeat, abort mission. Return to base."

The door to the van slid open to reveal Awesome and Morgan decked out in tactical black and night vision goggles.

Awesome cocked an eyebrow, pulling off his goggles. "What's up, bro? You're pulling the plug?"

Chuck shook his head, hitching a thumb to the backseat. "Sorry, guys, pack it up. Sarah knows, and she's threatened the extremes."

Morgan frowned, sliding his night vision goggles up to his forehead. "What?"

"Let's just say that the vasectomy she was screaming about when she had Shane will probably be unnecessary if I don't get home."

All four males winced at the implications, wordlessly coming to an agreement. Without any further argument, they packed up the stuff, sliding into their positions in the van.

Casey smirked and scoffed from his position riding shotgun. "Where are those balls again, Bartowksi?"

Chuck sighed, returning his phone to his pocket. "Apparently on a chain around Sarah's neck."

"Hey, I don't blame you, Chuckster," Awesome lamented from the backseat. "Sex is a very effective collateral."

- - -

Chuck opened the door to the house, still decked out in his mission attire, Sarah breezed past him on her way back to the study, holding up a finger as he opened his mouth to explain.

"I really don't want to hear it, Chuck."

"Sarah…"

Sarah halted before rotating, her sapphire eyes blazing with annoyance. "Chuck, you could have very easily made our daughter hate you for a good long while tonight, not to _mention_ the boatload of trust issues that would have stemmed from this!"

Chuck ducked his head. "I know…" he trailed off helplessly. "This whole thing…it's just…"

Sarah sighed, unable to stay mad at him. He looked so miserable, and she could see his motivations. Albeit, he went about them in the worst way possible, but she could understand. Stepping up to him, she wound her arms around his neck. "Babe, I know you hate this, but she's not a kid anymore. She's growing up, and you know that's extending to boys."

"It just seems too soon," Chuck mumbled.

"Honey, you're gonna have to get used to this. This isn't the only date she's gonna go on."

Chuck pouted. "I guess."

"And while I'm happy that you're so protective of her, you really just have to back off. Trust her."

"I do trust her," Chuck insisted. "It's hormonal teenage boys I don't trust."

"You can't protect her forever, babe," Sarah reminded him.

Chuck shrugged. "Maybe not, but I can sure as hell try."

"Aw, don't blame him, Walker." Sarah rotated as Casey slid through the back door. "He's just doing the right."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Why am I not surprised to know you were involved in this."

Casey smirked. "Just doing my godfatherly duties." He crossed his arms, jerking his head back to the exit. "I'll take him. You know, get his mind off this whole thing. That way, you're not compelled to kill him and he's not gonna patrol the door until Maddie gets back."

Sarah cocked an eyebrow. "Where?"

Casey smirked. "Nowhere near Maddie, I promise."

This time, Sarah's eyes narrowed. "And stay far away from alcohol, please."

Casey shot her a look that Sarah shrugged unapologetically at. "We know what alcohol does to both him and you. I am not going to bail you out of jail if you two get it in your heads to do harm to a certain teenage boy while intoxicated."

Casey grunted his amusement. "Don't worry, Walker. He'll be in a secure area."

Sarah only shook her head. She turned back to her husband. "You gonna be okay?"

Chuck sighed again. "Yeah, I guess." He shook his head, rotating to follow Casey. "I knew I should have invested in that chastity belt…"

Just as the duo was about to exit the house, a shout halted them.

"Wait!"

Sarah halted before the pair and held out her hand. Chuck looked from her open palm to her expectant eyes and back before shaking his head. "Nuh-uh! No way!"

Sarah cocked her head, eyes narrowing. "Chuck…"

Chuck only shook his head more vigorously.

"C'mon, babe. I will not be responsible for a homicide tonight."

Chuck huffed out a sigh, grumbling under his breath. "Fine." Reaching behind him, he extracted his Walther P99 semi-automatic pistol, slapping the firearm in his wife's palm.

Sarah transferred the sidepiece to her other hand, extending her palm again, fingers wiggling. "Knives too."

Chuck rolled his eyes, stooping down to unstrap the holster from his ankle, handing over the pouch.

"And the other ankle."

Mumbling under his breath about overbearing wives and basic rights, Chuck unstrapped the other holster from his opposite ankle. Once the weapons were safely in his wife's possession, he spread his hands, waving them around to indicate their emptiness.

"Can I go now?"

Sarah nodded, stretching up to press a kiss to her husband's cheek. "Yup. Have fun!"

Casey only shook his head as they exited out the front door. "You really have to get those balls back, Bartowski."

Chuck sighed, opening the door to the Crown Vic. "You're tellin' me."

He slid into the passenger seat, looking at his companion with curiosity. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere where you can let some aggression out," Casey grunted. "Some place that won't have you getting arrested when you do."

Chuck smirked as they pulled into a very familiar structure a few minutes later. "You took me to a shooting range?"

Casey shrugged unapologetically. "You can't shoot the kid. Even the CIA can't get you out of that one. But you can shoot a piece of paper and imagine it's the kid."

Chuck inclined his head. "Good point."

- - -

Chuck cocked the Glock in his fist. Planting his feet, he took aim and unleashed a series of rounds into the paper target that peppered the kill zones. Casey was right. This was a great way to let aggression out. Casey had taken them to a shooting range just outside of the city. He knew the man who owned the establishment. Cooper Shaw was a Marine and Casey's old college buddy. When told of the situation, Cooper brushed off all further explanation and led them to his personal VIP area where he supplied them with unlimited rounds and the advice that idle threats were as good as you were gonna get before the wife stepped in.

"Feeling better?"

Chuck glanced sideways at his companion. "A bit," he admitted, his index finger stroking the sideburn at his temple. "Still want to hunt down McKenzie and press a shotgun to his balls."

"Why is this bugging you so much, Bartowski?"

"Because that's my little girl out there on her own with some hormonal prick," Chuck retorted. Once he got started, the emotions just came rushing out, sending Chuck on a tirade that had been building since Joel McKenzie appeared on his doorstep, all coiffed and pressed.

"Because she deserves more than a kid who can't even look me in the eye when I talk to him! Because she is a girl who loves fully and with all her heart, and I don't want some snot-nosed 'dumb goof' to have the opportunity to take advantage of that. Because that same heart is too pure and to precious ever be broken!"

Pressed to his breaking point, Chuck slammed a fist against the side panel in frustration. Snatching up the pistol, he whirled to the target and fired off one round, the resulting bang echoing over the otherwise silent range. Lowering the gun, he stared hard at the single hole, embedded in the center of where a certain part of male anatomy would be situated. Slumping in defeat, he tossed the pistol onto the surface of the stall and braced his hands back on the edge, rocking back slightly on his heels.

"When did this happen, Casey?" Chuck ventured, his eyes down his hands. "Yesterday, she was my pigtailed little girl bouncing around the house in a bright pink tutu. Now, she's so…grown up. Pretty soon she'll be in high school, then she'll be driving, and then she'll be in college."

"You don't think she'll need you anymore," Casey finished, his growl softened.

Chuck scoffed. "Casey, she hasn't needed me for a long time, but I still can kinda plead dependency when she's a kid."

"She's a good kid, Bartowski," Casey grunted. "You and Walker raised her right. You won't have to worry about her making the wrong choices."

Chuck ducked his head. "I can't protect her, Casey. I desperately wish I could. There's so much in this world that I know is so bad, so wrong. I don't want her to ever see that."

"You can't stop that from happening, Chuck," Casey remarked. "It's bound to happen. It's just part of her growing up. You just gotta trust that the things you taught her are enough. That's what my dad said to me." He glanced at Chuck. "What are you really worried about, Bartowski? Letting her go?"

Chuck shook his head. "Not so much letting her go as…when I do, she won't come back."

Casey smiled slightly. It wasn't much, just a quick quirk of the lips. Only Maddie could really get him to smile. The NSA agent, still as gruff and growly as ever, clapped a hand on Chuck's shoulder.

"She'll always come back, Chuck. This is her family, and if it's one thing those kids of yours know, it's that family comes first." Casey turned a serious stare to his partner, ice blue eyes heady with intent.

"Always."

- - -

"Hey."

Sarah glanced up from her position at the side of their bed, slipping her graded papers into her leather shoulder bag for classes next week.

"Hey!" She rotated slightly brushing a kiss to his lips in greeting as he moved behind her. "How'd it go with Casey?"

Chuck's arms went to their relegated position around her waist as he propped his chin on the crown of her head. "It went well. I got some stuff off my chest, worked out my issues, gleaned some perspective. We, uh, we really bonded over this whole thing with Maddie."

Sarah leaned back against his chest, laying her head back on his shoulder. "You know, it never ceases to amaze me how Casey is with her. Who would've thought, huh?"

Chuck laughed. "Yeah if only we would have known a little girl would be the Achilles' heel of John Casey." He grew contemplative as he looked down at his wife's golden hair. "Look, Sarah…I'm sorry about the whole stakeout thing. It's just –"

Sarah hushed him, shifting in his embrace to face him and rising up on her toes to seek his kiss. He parted his lips at the sensation of her tongue seeking entrance and obliged readily, deepening the kiss. His hands clenched around the fabric of her shirt as her fingers buried themselves in his hair. Sarah pulled away, bumping her nose with his, eyes still closed.

"I know, babe, and I understand."

Chuck nodded, the pain in his eyes still obvious. He shook his head. "I just don't want to blink and miss it all."

Sarah smiled, cradling his cheek with her palm. "You won't. I promise. Just blink slow."

Chuck snorted at the joke, laying his forehead on hers. Sarah slipped her arms back around his neck and gestured to their daughter's bedroom with a hitch of her head.

"Well, she got back while you were gone. Ten o'clock on the dot. She's up in her room if you want to talk to her."

Chuck turned in her embrace, craning his neck back towards the door. With a nod, he pressed one final kiss to Sarah's lips before extracting himself and making his way to Maddie's room.

"Chuck?"

He stopped at the doorway, turning back to his wife. "Yeah, babe?"

"You're a good father. She loves you with all her heart, and I do, too." Sarah smiled. "Don't forget that."

Chuck only returned the smile. "Thanks, Sarah."

- - -

Chuck hovered at the closed door of Maddie's room, laying his head against the sparkly plaque adorned with her name. Taking a deep breath, he mustered up his resolve and knocked on the door, sticking his head though the entranceway. Maddie was reclining in the middle of her bed, hanging upside down with her feet braced on the headboard and head at the foot. Her cell phone was out, fingers moving a mile a minute as she typed, supposedly sending a text to her best friend.

"Hey, Maddie."

Maddie's head craned backward and caught he father idling at her doorway. Finishing her text and tossing her phone to the side, she grinned. "Hi, Dad."

Chuck's fingers drummed anxiously against the doorframe. "How was it?"

Maddie righted herself and faced her father, shrugging noncommittally. "Okay, I guess. Food was good, movie was lame. I think he wanted to go to one of those slashers because he thought I'd be scared by it." She rolled her eyes. "Please. I see worse when you and Uncle Morgan play _Resident Evil_."`

Chuck's eyes darkened to a stormy black. "He didn't try anything, did he?"

Maddie shook her head. "No! Dad, no!" She flipped her hair over her shoulder, grumbling slightly. "That's the problem…"

Chuck looked completely unamused. "I don't see the problem, here, honey."

Maddie silenced him with a glare that was so reminiscent of his wife that he immediately quieted. She shrugged.

"He was so jittery all night. It was like I had a three-foot radius around me the whole time. It was like he was scared to even try to touch me!" The sapphire spheres narrowed suspiciously. "What did you and the Uncles say to him?"

Chuck lofted his hands. "Nothing!"

One sculpted eyebrow shot upward in disbelief.

"Really!"

Maddie shook her head. "Yeah, sure, Dad."

"Besides, if the guy is that easily intimidated, he's not worth it."

"Dad," Maddie sighed, "your name translates to billions of dollars, _Time_ named you one of the most influential people of all time, dozens of celebrities are on your speed dial, there is no piece of technology in existence that you can't fix…" Maddie waved her hands for emphasis. "_Bill Gates_ is intimidated by you."

"That's because I regularly kick his ass at _Halo_," Chuck quipped.

Maddie pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "The thing is, Dad, no matter who it is, he's always gonna be scared of you because of who you are."

Chuck eased himself down on the mattress, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Maddie, one day you will find a guy who's intimidated only by the fact that I'm your father not because I'm Charles Montgomery. That's when you know you've got a good one."

Maddie bit her lip before glancing sideways at her father through long eyelashes. "Dad?"

"Hmmm?"

"How'd you know you got a good one in Mom?"

Chuck huffed out a chuckle as, internally, the memories of the early years of his and Sarah's relationship skated through his mind. "When Uncle Morgan referred to her as 'Vicki Vale.'"

Maddie laughed, pushing her father away. "I'm serious!"

This time, Chuck thought for a moment, cocking his head at the ceiling as he pondered the answer. "The moment she made your Uncle Casey crash his Suburban into a security pole." At Maddie's skeptical look, he hastened to explain.

"As freaked out as I was at the time, in the back of my mind, I was amazed at this woman who clearly did not need me to protect her. In fact, she protected me before she taught me how to protect myself, and even then, she was always behind me. Just in case." He scooted closer to his eldest and only daughter, drawing her into his lap. She laid her head on his shoulder as he stroked her dark chocolate curls.

"When you find your right guy, you'll know because when the gloves are off, he'll be the first to jump into the ring. But at the same time, he'll be the first to back off when he knows you can take care of yourself." Chuck smiled.

"Your mother and I didn't teach you the things we did so you can play damsel in distress."

Maddie pondered her father's words. "So that's when I know I've got the right guy?"

"When he can stare me and your uncles down and tell us in a way beyond just words that he'll put his life on the line to keep you safe or at least die trying, you've got the right guy," Chuck affirmed with a nod.

"Seems like a lofty goal," Maddie muttered.

Chuck chuckled indulgently. "You shouldn't expect anything less, kid."

Maddie seemed to consider that point. "Thanks, Dad."

"Anytime, Mads." He extracted her from his lap. "Well, it's been a long night for you. You should get some sleep. I know you have cheer practice tomorrow morning."

Maddie yawned in acquiescence, sliding beneath the covers. "Alright. Night, Daddy."

Like he had when she was a baby, Chuck reached down, tucking her snugly beneath the blankets. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Night, babe."

"Love you, Dad."

Chuck smiled. "Love you, too." He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Do me a favor, Tigger?" Chuck knelt down beside her bed, one large palm tucking a strand of her curly hair behind her ear. "When you do find that guy for you, don't forget about your old man?"

Maddie smiled that radiant smile that had his charm and Sarah's sparkle. "Never, Daddy," she promised. "No matter what, you're always gonna be the number one guy in my life."

Chuck returned the smile. "I'm holding you to that, kiddo."

Maddie's hand slid from under her blanket, index, middle, and ring fingers upright. "Scout's honor."

Chuck smirked. "You were only in the Scouts for two weeks, Maddie. I don't think that holds any pull."

Maddie shrugged, glancing down her upraised hand. "Thought that counts, Dad."

Chuck laughed, making his way to the door. His hand hovered over the light switch. "Hey, Maddie?"

Sleep-filled sapphire eyes met his. "Yeah, Dad?"

"You mind not going on another date for a good twenty years?"

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying…"

_And…cut! I know I promised the Landon story first, but this one just seemed to flow out faster. I tried to balance humor with drama, and Ihope you enjoyed it. Next is the Landon story, and after that, we will go a bit heavier and deal with Chuck and the fine line that separates him and Agent Bartowski. Stay tuned._

_Roxy_

_P.S. And thanks to everyone for the kind congratulations and advice!_


	9. Chuck vs Agent Bartowski

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing. _

_**IMPORTANT**__: I am not trying to take any sort of political stand on anything. The people used as characters are simply a machination for this chapter. Please do not take any of the situations in this fiction as any sort of vendetta or soapbox against the political issue featured in this fic._

**Rating:** _**M**_ _for violence and sexual situations. This is not for those that are uncomfortable with a gritty, not-Chucklike Chuck. Those underage or uncomfortable with should probably avoid the end of this chapter for the sex scene as well._

**Summary:** _Chuck has seen the horrors of his government job. He's taken measures to keep his loved ones from his second life, but as he embarks on his first solo mission ever, he gets a lesson in making sure Chuck Bartowski and Agent Bartowski stay two separate entities._

**Timeline:** _Post-Sensory Perception and two months after Chuck and Sarah's big confrontation with Director Graham. Chuck has already proposed to Sarah and Neil Grayson has just joined the team._

**Alternate Characters:**

_Raymond Rehman – Middleman with ties to the Palestinian vigilante group. Mission is to capture Kalev Livni for ransom._

_Orson Beaufort – Texas businessman._

_Francine Beaufort – Orson's wife. _

_Leland Sanford – New England media mogul._

_Kalev Livni – Brother of important member of the Israeli government in America for business deal._

_Okay, so so so so sorry for the delay in this chapter. I know I originally planned to put in a Landon-centered chapter, but that's hit a bit of a stall. Therefore, instead of agonizing over it and causing even more of a delay, I've decided to put out this chapter instead. This is a kind of angsty, drama-filled one as Chuck and Agent Bartowski collide, and we get a bit of a glimpse of Chuck's agent side. It gets intense._

_Just a warning, there is a good amount of violence, not too much, I think, and a sex scene at the end of this chapter. Those uncomfortable or underage should probably avoid the last few paragraphs or so and skip to the end._

_And cheers to that Zac Levi movie, Shades of Ray, for the baddie's name…_

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 9**

_Chuck vs. Agent Bartowski_

There was something to be said about a man who looked good in a suit. And not just any suit, but a tuxedo. Any man could pull off jeans and a t-shirt, but the man who could don the timeless elegance of a tuxedo and don it well…well, that was something else.

Chuck Bartowski looked at the man across from him. The tall frame was draped from head to toe in an expertly-tailored black tuxedo in complete accordance to formal etiquette standards. A pristine, snow-white dress shirt lay beneath the double breasted waistcoat and an expertly-arranged bow tie peeked out from between the folds of a turndown collar. The dark strands of hair were combed back and to the side in a stylish wave, the sides slicked away from the temple and down smoothly to the back that stopped about an inch from the collar, shaved down to a neat taper.

He appraised the image set before him. The man simply radiated sophistication and importance from the obviously expensive cut of the suit to the elegant, confident poise that seemed to ooze from an impeccable posture and an air of debonair style. It was unnerving to witness, halting to observe.

Chuck Bartowski was staring at a very, very important man.

Chuck Bartowski was staring at himself.

It was hard to believe. The man squinting at him from the mirror didn't look like Chuck Bartowski. Chuck Bartowski lived in jeans and t-shirts, his hair wild and untamed, champion of casual chic. Chuck Bartowski spent his days devising strategy for _Call of Duty_ showdowns with the hapless goons of Large Mart and Wire World and re-watching past seasons of _Battlestar Galactica_ and the coveted lone venture of _Firefly_ while lusting after Number Six or Kaylee Frye. The man in the mirror didn't look like a nerd personified. The man in the mirror looked like a total badass.

Technically, the man in the mirror _wasn't_ Chuck Bartowski. He was Charles Montgomery. Charles Montgomery was the coiffed, tailored, and utterly sophisticated head of an up-and-coming software and technology company. Charles Montgomery didn't manage to trip over air. Charles Montgomery could kick your ass ten ways to Sunday, throwing in an extra helping for kicks…so to speak.

This was the life Chuck Bartowski always wanted, the one that had haunted his fantasies about where his potential would take him. This was the life he had always dreamed about. No, strike that. He could have never imagined the life he had fabricated in his mind the moment he stepped foot onto the Stanford University campus. This was the life he thought had been dashed the moment Bryce Larkin lay his completely _not_ guilty ass out to roast with his self-righteous quest, so-called benevolent motivations, and accursed hero-complex that had left the target of those rather annoying attributes floundering in the waters of uncertainty, insecurity, and unemployment. Cheers, mate. Who appointed you savior of Chuck Bartowski's innocence?

He never would have dreamed his five-year spiral of self-deprecation and loathing would have brought him to the path Bryce Larkin labored so hard to keep him from. Yeah, so much for that. With an innocent jab of his finger, he became the most significant piece of intelligence technology to ever grace the earth. However, to the two people surrounding him, he had become so much more important than that. With training, he became part of the most efficient operative team the CIA could offer.

Chuck tugged a bit at his lapels, adjusting his cufflinks. He had spent most of his government employment on the sidelines. Now, Chuck Bartowski was out solo for the first time. He had the badge, he had the credentials, and now, he was about to chalk up the field experience.

Chuck glanced to the side as Casey sidled up to him, feral grin in place, tilted slightly upwards in a smirk. Casey looked at him for a long moment, surveying the man that had come quite a ways from the bumbling idiot who accidentally sent a terrorist diamond to Washington via FedEx.

"You sure you're ready for this, Chuckles?"

Chuck gave the NSA agent a long, suffering look. "This isn't my first mission, Casey."

"No, but it's your first officially under CIA jurisdiction. You screw this up, you'll have more than just Graham and Beckman to answer to."

"I think I'm familiar with the concept of bearing the burdens of the United States government," Chuck deadpanned, tapping his temple in emphasis.

"Good, then you're familiar of the concept of my standing threat to put a bullet through your brain."

Chuck's lips flicked upward in a sardonic smile. "You've used that excuse so much, I don't think it holds the same merit, Casey."

"You're an agent now, Bartowski," Casey reminded him. "Now, I can actually follow through with that threat…"

Chuck inclined his head in acquiescence as Casey slapped an earpiece into his palm. "Remember, you can't be Chuck Bartowski. You can't even be just another guy attending these things. You have to be Charles Montgomery."

Chuck nodded, fitting the device into his ear. "Got it, Casey."

"Time to cowboy up, Bartowski," Casey grumbled. "Let's see what you're made of."

Chuck saluted Casey sharply, throwing out a thumbs up. He shook his head as the hulking man only cocked his sidepiece, holstering it smartly.

"You okay?"

Chuck inhaled before letting out the deep breath. He ducked his head, adjusting the cufflinks again before peeking into Sarah's concerned cobalt gaze. "I'm fine."

She quirked a wry smile, quoting from a favorite movie. "You know what fine means, right? Freaked Out, Insecure…"

"Neurotic, and Emotional," Chuck finished. He quirked an eyebrow. "_Italian Job_? Nice."

Sarah returned the gesture. "Accurate?"

"Yeah," he conceded, huffing out a chuckle, "that's about right."

Sarah's face softened as she reached out, adjusting the ends of his bowtie as she was wont to do on so many occasions. "You'll do great."

"I know," Chuck murmured. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Sarah mirrored his slightly somber expression. "It was only a matter of time, Chuck. As much as Bryce tried to stop it, the truth is, you're perfect for this job and not just because of the Intersect…or your complete lack of coordination," she cajoled gently, fixing the only piece of color in his ensemble, the deep red handkerchief in his breast pocket.

"It's not a complete lack," Chuck defended with a smile.

"You have your moments," Sarah assented. She grew serious again. "Just don't forget who you _really_ are. You may be Charles Montgomery to them, but you can't forget about Chuck Bartowski in the end."

Chuck nodded his understanding. Sarah grabbed his lapels, smoothing down the fabric. "Be careful, okay? Remember everything you've learned from me and Casey and you should be okay."

Chuck swallowed hard before nodding. "Got it."

Sarah tweaked his tie one more time before turning away, rummaging through her bag. "Here, I have something for you."

Sarah handed him a small package. Chuck tore off the paper to find a compact semi-automatic pistol nestled in the depths. He glanced up, smile wry with amusement.

"You gave me a Walther P99."

Sarah chuckled, shrugging slightly. "I may not be as versed in popular culture as you are, but I do have a bit of knowledge. I'm told it's the gun James Bond uses." She propped her chin on his chest. "I watched some of the movies to get a better feel of the character." She winked conspiratorially. "He's got nothing on you."

Chuck laughed, appreciating the humor. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Sarah's lips. "Thank you."

"I love you, Chuck," Sarah answered. "Not Charles Montgomery. You, Chuck Bartowski."

"But Charles Montgomery _is_ me."

"Maybe, but Chuck Bartowski is who I fell in love with. Don't forget the distinction."

Chuck nodded slowly as he remembered a conversation they had not too long ago about turning the spy-sense on and off. "Yeah, I get it."

Sarah smiled, plucking the weapon from his grasp. Winding her arms around his waist, she pulled him close again, leaning up to kiss his neck as she slid the gun in the holster at the small of his back. Releasing him from her grasp, she buttoned his jacket, holding up a finger.

"And one more thing…"

Chuck laughed. "What, more? I've got my knives, got my gun, what other ammunition could I possibly need? Pepper spray?"

"No, doofus," Sarah chided. "One more thing, and you'll be perfect."

Chuck glanced down to the left side of his jacket, watching in fascination as she produced a small, white flower, slipping it through the apposite hole in the lapel.

"A gardenia." He smiled in recognition. "Your favorite."

Sarah shrugged, adjusting the boutonniere slightly. "Thought it was appropriate."

"It is."

She stepped back and appraised him. Dashing tuxedo, concealed earpiece in, suitably armed, dress watch with transmitter at his wrist. Sarah nodded in satisfaction.

"Looks like you're good to go."

Sarah bit her lip, seemingly contemplating something before darting in, capturing his lips between hers. She clung to his neck, securing him to her, rising on her toes to fully engage his lips. She could feel him freeze in surprise, no doubt taken aback at the aggressiveness of the embrace before encircling his arms around her waist. Where her kiss was demanding, almost bruising in its intensity, his was soft, a gentle probing that held the reassurance hers sought. Their lips parted, ending in a soft caress as Chuck reached out, stroking her cheek with loving fingertips. Sarah dropped back down to her normal height, smoothing out the fabric wrinkled from her relentless grip. Patting his chest in satisfaction, she quirked a wavering smile, placing a slight distance between them.

"Good luck, Agent Bartowski."

- - -

Chuck leaned back against the seat of the limousine transporting him to the sight of their mission where Neil was already stationed. In the front seat, Casey and Sarah were stationed and set on debriefing him while simultaneously attempting to transport him to his destination.

"Okay, Chuck. Right now we have information that a Middle Eastern terrorist might be in attendance to the breast cancer foundation benefit. Here is your invitation. Your job is to get in there and mingle. Hopefully, you'll flash on anything that will give us anything more than we already have."

Chuck snorted. "Hmmm, painfully vague as usual."

Casey slapped a wad of bills into Chuck's chest. "It's a Casino Night theme, and CIA's funding 100 again. Grayson's currently at Table Three." He smirked.

"Don't blow it all this time."

Chuck rolled his eyes, slipping the cash into his inner jacket pocket. "Well, if you had told me the _first_ time…"

"Anyway," Sarah cut in before the pair would inevitably begin bickering, "Chuck, you need to get in, get our information, and get out. Don't expose yourself more than necessary, but if it gets bad –"

"And no doubt, it will," Casey snarked.

Sarah shot him a glare as she continued, "you are given authorization to use...alternate methods."

"License to kill? Nice." Chuck whipped out his Walther, posing like he had seen in so many of the movie posters. "Montgomery. Charles Montgomery."

Casey huffed out a grunt. "Geek."

"Nerd!"

- - -

He drew in a deep breath, as the limousine gradually slowed to a stop. He hardened his features to those of a self-confident, slightly arrogant business man and unconsciously straightened his posture. His eyes flicked over to the front where Sarah's own gaze bore into his, comforting in its familiar blazing, bold blue, before his head shifted to stare out the tinted window to the doorway of the elegant ballroom. The moment he eclipsed the threshold between the confines of the car to the world beyond the vehicle, he would be Chuck Bartowski no longer. Once more, now. Inhale. Exhale. Showtime.

- - -

The bright lights of the entrance flooded bathed the street for a good block, serving as a spotlight for the wealthy and well-known prominent enough to be invited to the prestigious event. The media was out in full-force, held back by the prerequisite red ropes, hoping to snap a picture of the latest socialite to grace the entrance carpet. All attention reverted back to the curb as a sleek limousine pulled up. A valet hurried to the door, grasping the handle, and pulling it open. A long leg extended from the inside of the car, the patent-leather pump bracing itself on solid ground. The man who followed immediately garnered curious attention. He was tall, broad-shouldered and lean, poured into a flawlessly-cut tuxedo. His face was handsome, his appearance impressive, if not a bit nerdy, and his features were defined and chiseled. He seemed slightly uncomfortable with the attention bestowed on him, but still shook the hand of the host cordially, his once impassive face blooming into a warm, if not slightly reserved smile. As his frame disappeared into the depths of the ballroom, the whispers started.

There was a consensus of curious confusion to the identity of the latest arrival. The curiosity was abated, however, as the name 'Charles Montgomery' was poured into the ears of those gathered, the hums following. The name had begun to garner recognition in the media as the founder and CEO of the newest technological giant that had almost literally popped into the limelight overnight. However, the face to prominent enigma had been noticeably unknown until this night. With one flashbulb capturing the profile of the newest member of the Big Boy Club, Charles Montgomery had officially come out of obscurity.

- - -

Chuck surveyed the room with a careful eye. This gala had brought out a good amount of LA's shiniest. Hollywood's best mixed in with Wall Street's big players, all coming together for this breast cancer benefit. He, himself, was a smalltime player amidst the elite, his presence known but yet to fully emerge. Chuck scanned over the mingling people before his eyes settled on a tanned man, the stubble on his cheeks standing out against the clean-shaven appearances of the men beside him. Chuck paused. In his mind, the pictures came in rapid succession, a bevy of images that made sense only to him. He blinked, the only sign that the flash had occurred. Any overt indicators of the occurrence had long since been remedied. He touched a hand to his ear, activating the communications link to his partners.

"Got something."

_Bad?_ came Sarah's soft voice.

"Possibly," Chuck answered, his eyes shifting over to the trigger of the Intersect. "Raymond Rehman. Real name: Muhammed Amjad Hussaini. Middleman for the Palestinian unsavories."

_Nice name. He doesn't look Palestinian,_ Casey mused, catching the visual of Rehman.

"Half," Chuck answered. "Father's British. Took his mother's name."

_Patriotic…_

_Dangerous?_ This question came from Sarah.

"Only to the people he hands over to be decapitated." Chuck's reply was blithe and deadpanned. "He's the worst sort, takes sick pleasure in hitting people where it hurts the most. Does it for the money. Whoever pays the most. He'd hand his own mother over for the right price."

Silence reigned over the link as the pair stuck in the car weighed the options. After a moment, Sarah's voice sounded once again.

_You're gonna have to get to him, Chuck, see what he's up to. The General's already given orders to take him out if necessary. Be careful, though. For all we know, it's just a random occurrence._

Chuck snorted softly. "It's never a random occurrence."

His stare scanned the room noting the Casino Night theme and the many tables where could indulge in their gambling vices. He spotted Neil at the table designated as the third one, dealing Blackjack. The newest member to Team Chuck caught his eye, inclining his head in an imperceptible nod, acknowledging the change in their mission.

He propped an elbow against the edge, leaning casually against the bar. Casting a precursory glance around the room, he waved a bartender over.

"Vodka tonic, please."

Taking his drink and leaving a generous tip, Chuck meandered back over to the tables. He took a seat, nodding to Neil as the other man switched the bills he slid across the felt of the table into chips. He was seated with three men, two of whom had wives hanging on their arms.

Chuck placed his bet, leaning back in his chair and covertly allowing his eyes to drift from the table as Neil put down a pair of eights before him. He extended an arm, dropping an equal amount of chips beside his original bet before flicking two fingers out, separating them into a 'V.'

Neil nodded, "Splitting two eights." He deftly plucked a series of cards from the holder beside him, "Ten…eighteen."

Chuck waved a hand over the cards, indicating his desire to stay before Neil moved over to the second eight.

"Thirteen…twenty."

Again, Chuck waved his hand in a stay.

Neil showed his hand of fifteen before drawing a seven from the pile. "Dealer busts."

As the hands continued, Chuck made small talk with his tablemates in an attempt to glean any information. So far, no one had anything that a Palestinian assassin could possibly deal with.

"So, Mr. Montgomery, what is it that you do?"

Chuck placed his bet, glancing over at the man who had addressed him. Orson Beaufort was a Southern gentleman from Texas who dabbled in the oil industry. His obvious trophy sat daintily beside him platinum hair almost blinding in its intensity. Chuck tried not to shiver. Francine Beaufort had been eying him all night with a look that only could be considered as downright coquettish.

"I'm a bit of a businessman, myself, Mr. Beaufort. I own a company called Traversal Industries. We dabble in the technological field. Mostly with computers."

"Ah," this comment sounded from beside Orson, from Leland Sanford, a media mogul who held shares in many of the major newspapers and mediums. "You young fellows and your computers. A bit to complicated for a simple man like myself." Sanford chuckled jovially. "Me, give me a pen and paper. It'll take me forever, but at least I'll understand how to use it!"

Chuck laughed. "Well, to each man his own, Mr. Sanford."

"Agreed," a new voice added, tinged slightly with a Middle Eastern accent. "In my country, my sister is extremely prominent. Me, I am content in continuing the family business. She may have the spotlight. I just wish for a comfortable life for my wife and children."

Chuck turned to the speaker, the only man seated to his right. He was a moderately tall man of slender build who had been observing the conversation silently until this time. His sandy hair fell neatly in a distinguished wave combed back away from his face. A pair of cool green eyes flicked over the table, and his features were open and composed.

"Well put, my good man!" boomed Orson, smacking a large palm against the edge of the table. "Don't you feel the same, Montgomery?"

"Yes, Mr. Montgomery," purred Francine, "is there a lucky lady waiting at home for you to lavish in comfort?"

Chuck's eyes softened, the corners crinkling as his lips curving into a wide, indulgent smile. Almost unconsciously, his hand drifted to the gardenia at his lapel.

His companions paused at the first sign of real emotion that had bloomed from the otherwise expressionless business magnate. It was though a switch flipped within the rather enigmatic persona. Until that point, he had been cordial and reserved, although very charming. At the mention of a lady, however, the light simply flickered in his gaze, leaving no doubt to the true passion of the man.

"Yes, there is," he murmured softly in a voice full of devotion. "I am engaged to the most wonderful woman in the world. She came to me when I was at my worst, broken by a woman with whom I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life." Chuck paused, knowing the very woman was listening on the other end.

"She made me complete again…cheesy as it sounds. I was able to believe in love again."

"'There is no remedy for love but to love more.'" Chuck turned to the man on his right once again. His mellow voice was soft but held the command of a shout. His strong features held a peaceful smile. "I believe those are the words of one of your own, the philosopher, Thoreau. It is a wise assertion, yes?"

Chuck smiled warmly at the soft-spoken man who had . "Perhaps the truest ever." He extended a hand. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. Charles Montgomery."

His offering was grasped in a strong grip and pumped once. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Montgomery. I am a fan of your company. Just bought one of your computers, myself. Kalev Livni."

Chuck's smile froze for the most infinitesimal of moments, the only indication that the images in his head had been triggered. He nodded to Livni, placing down another bet. His eyes met Neil's, one finger circling the face of his watch, code to his partner. Neil's gaze flicked to Chuck's right and was met with a small nod. The CIA agent tugged absently on his uniform tie, acknowledging he had understood the new importance of Kalev Livni.

Chuck stayed for two more hands before gathering his chips, leaving a tip for Neil. He turned to his companions with a smile.

"Well, gentlemen, it has been fun, but I think my luck's about to run out." Chuck rose from his seat, shaking hands with his tablemates before pocketing his winnings. "If you'll excuse me."

Chuck meandered away from the crowd, presumably to grab some air as he accepted water from a wandering waiter. Leaning against the balcony that isolated him from the partygoers inside, he activated the link to Sarah and Casey.

"It's not a random occurrence," Chuck murmured.

_Why? What's up?_ Sarah answered.

"He's here on a job," Chuck confirmed, zeroing in on Rehman before focusing on Livni once again.

"I just flashed on Livni. He's the brother of an important member of the Israeli government." Chuck took a sip of his water. "It can't possibly be coincidence that Rehman just happened to attend a function that Livni is attending as well." He muffled a sigh. "I'm seriously considering throwing out the 'I told you so.'"

_Technically, you just did_, Casey growled. _What do you think, kidnapping or assassination?_

"My bet's kidnapping," Chuck answered. "Hold him for ransom and you have collateral in making his sister push something with a Palestinian agenda."

_If he's killed and considering the way Israel and Palestine are at the moment, we might be looking at a very messy situation,_ Casey commented.

_Which_ _might get us pulled into another international war,_ Sarah finished with a sigh.

Chuck straightened. "We have to stop him."

_Brilliant assessment, Chuckles. No wonder no wonder you were made an agent._

"Dammit, Casey, that was my dramatic one-liner. You just ruined it…"

- - -

Chuck mingled through the gala, making his rounds while covertly keeping an eye on both Rehman and Livni. He had to give it to the former. Rehman was patient, waiting for his moment to strike. Chuck meandered out onto the balcony for a moment, indulging in another vodka tonic.

_Chuck!_

At Neil's urgent whisper, Chuck rotated, spotting three men frog-marching Livni away, the man's face betraying his terror. Leaving his glass on the railing, Chuck buttoned his jacket, sliding through the masses. He ducked into a deserted hallway, following the quartet. Creeping silently behind the first man, Chuck jumped, grabbing the him around the back and threw him to the ground. A kick to the head stopped his attempt to get up. The man in front rotated, mouth open and ready to shout. Flinging both hands forward, Chuck unleashed the weapons covertly sheathed up his sleeve, and the man found himself pinned to the wall by a pair of knives embedded in the fabric of his jacket and shirt. Chuck swiveled outward, grabbing the wrist that was extending, a gun in hand. A yank forward threw his assailant off-balance and an upward rotation locked the arm behind his back, allowing the gun to fall from limp fingers. Chuck grabbed the man's collar and thrust him forward into the side wall, knocking the man unconscious.

Kalev Livni gaped at the man who saved him, recognizing him from their earlier encounter.

"Mr. Montgomery?"

Chuck pulled Livni off to the side. "Mr. Livni, you are in danger."

Livni stuttered incoherently before finally mustering a, "Who are you?"

Chuck reached into his jacket pocket, flashing his credentials. "I work for the United States government, the CIA. I'm here to help you."

Livni's mouth flapped a few times as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. His eyes snapped from the struggling man to the unconscious one at their feet. "What's going on?"

"The men trying to kidnap you are members of a Palestinian organization. You are to be held ransom until your sister meets with their political demands." Chuck reached out, placing a hand on Livni's shoulder. "Trust me, I can help you. I'm sure you're aware of the importance of getting you out of here and safe."

"Yes, of course."

"Alright, follow me." Leading the Israeli man by the elbow, Chuck steered him towards the side exit. He once again touched a hand to the earpiece. "Casey, Livni is on the way out."

"Roger that, Bartowski. I'm sending two in for clean up."

Making sure that no one was following them, Chuck slunk towards a side exit. Opening the door, he passed Livni off to Casey and stood back, allowing the two NSA agents clothed in waiter's costumes to slip past him. He nodded to Casey, and before he turned around, he felt a hand at his elbow.

Livni paused for a moment as though he wasn't sure what to say. Finally, he stuck a hand out.

"Thank you, Mr. Montgomery."

- - -

Chuck had just re-entered the ballroom's main floor when he found his progression halted and himself rather surrounded. He swiveled his head and found himself looking slightly downward at Raymond Rehman.

Chuck tensed as he felt the very familiar feeling of a muzzle pressed into his back, and the tanned man stepped forward, a sour look on his face.

"Mr. Montgomery, is it?"

Chuck found his vision surrounded by the stereotypical big, burly men serving as security detail. "Yes? And you are?"

"I am a man who is wholly disappointed that my prey is mysteriously and quite noticeably absent."

"Prey?" Chuck feigned ignorance, slipping into the babbling, bumbling persona of an unaware businessman. He stuttered out a nervous laugh. "Heh, is that some sort of euphemism I'm not aware of?"

"Please, Mr. Montgomery, do not insult me. Where is Kalev Livni?"

"Who?"

A sharp jab to his ribs reminded Chuck that there was a gun at his side.

"Do not make me ask again."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Chuck stammered. "I'm a simple guy who's just here to have a little fun, earn a couple thousand or so for charity."

Rehman considered his words. "You know, you're correct. This is a bit barbaric for these elegant settings. Perhaps we should take this matter somewhere more private."

As Chuck was nudged none too subtly forward, he dropped his act, knowing it was pretty much useless at this point. Craning his head to look back at Rehman, he cleared his throat.

"Would it be too much to ask if I could use the bathroom?"

At the rather insistent prod to his back, Chuck resigned himself to the situation. "I'll take that as a 'no.'"

Chuck groaned slightly as he found himself shoved into the backseat of an SUV, flanked by Rehman's men on either side. The drive was short, and moments later, Chuck was yanked out and marched into a warehouse by the San Pedro docks. He felt himself roughly turned around to face Rehman and his six-man thug team. Rehmen stepped forward.

"Now, Mr. Montgomery, considering the fact that you seem highly unconcerned at the moment, I'm assuming you have no idea who I am."

Chuck's lips tightened. "Don't flatter yourself. You're a bit player in this game." He scanned the six men accompanying Rehman derisively.

"If you were really that dangerous, you wouldn't have this much backup."

"Ah, yes…you Americans sure do have much bravado." Rehman stepped forward menacingly.

"I believe you have made my job much more difficult."

Chuck allowed his eyes to flick slightly to the side before returning to Remahn. A corner of his mouth tilted upward in a smile.

"You have no idea…"

Chuck whipped his right arm out laterally, sending a knife spiraling towards a cluster of wires. The sharp end embedded itself into the largest one, plunging the room into complete darkness. Wasting no time, Chuck knocked Rehman unconscious with a swift strike to the temple while one of the six thugs fumbled for the light. As the emergency power activated, Rehman's six guards returned their eyes to where Chuck once stood only to find the spot vacant.

Above them, Chuck crept silently along the catwalk, having scaled one of the hanging ropes, hoping his – now – occasionally bumbling feet would not betray him. He watched as Rehman's thugs swiveled anxiously in an attempt to spot him, none having the presence of mind to look upward.

Bracing a foot on the rail, he leaped off, going airborne. His path of descent found him right into the middle of the line of the gathered men, sending one man tumbling to the ground as Chuck landed on him. A punch to the head guaranteed he'd stay there. He didn't think, only moved. Chuck rolled to the right, rising up on a knee, a sidearm throw hurling another knife into the heart of another attacker.

Chuck weaved around a punch, doubling his assailant over with a snap kick, felling him with an uppercut. He winced as a very familiar growl transmitted through his earpiece.

_Bartowski, where are you?! What the hell's going on?_

Chuck gritted his teeth in annoyance as the slightly frantic voice of Casey rang through his ear. Blocking a swipe with a forearm, he brought his knee up into the fleshy gut of the thug, finishing with an elbow to the back of the neck.

"Kinda busy right now, Casey!"

_Grayson says you're not back at the party and since Walker's right next to me..._

The audible sound of a fist hitting skin sounded through the link followed by Sarah's irate hiss.

_Casey, don't even think of finishing that sentence!_

He dodged a wild swing from a man wielding a crowbar. Stopping a backhand swipe, Chuck bent his attacker's arm at the elbow, sending the crowbar into his forehead. Chuck grabbed the opposite end, incapacitating the bodyguard in a chokehold before a sideblade kick to the back of the knee put him sprawling on the ground. He grunted as an arm cut off his windpipe, snaking around his neck.

Twin shouts of _Bartowski!_ and _Chuck!_ sounded in his ear in varying tones as whatever the bickering was between Casey and Sarah came to an end, both ending with an incensed, _Where are you?_

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Chuck focused more on his current predicament, wheezing from lack of air.

"Can't…really…talk…right now."

In a last ditch attempt, Chuck thrust his head back, feeling his skull come in contact with the cartilage of his attacker's nose. Air rushed back into his lungs and accompanying passageways as the burly man abruptly released him, stumbling back with a howl. Ignoring the burning in his throat, Chuck pushed his weight forward, kicking back with a mule kick. Keeping the weight on that front foot, his leg whipped back around in a crescent kick. Chuck landed in a fighting stance, eyes sharply alert for any more potential threats. Seeing none, he finally answered.

"I have a GPS in my friggin' watch!" he growled. "Instead of pestering me while I'm trying to fight off six very big, very burly men, did either of you two meatheads think of tracking that?"

Silence was his answer as the two obliged him.

_The docks?_ Casey grunted. _How the hell'd you end up there?_

Chuck sighed. "Long story." He looked over at Rehman, still sprawled on the ground and oblivious to what had transpired. "Let me finish this, and I'll be out."

A few minutes later, Chuck straightened, surveying his handiwork. He nodded in satisfaction. Pulling up a crate, he plopped himself down, waiting for Rehman to awaken.

- - -

Raymond Rehman shook himself back to consciousness. Immediately, he noticed three things. First, he was tied up in a chair. Second, all six of his bodyguards were, noticeably and permanently incapacitated if their similar trussed up state was any indication. Third, Charles Montgomery was across from him, the picture of cool nonchalance.

"So…" the casual drawl caused Rehman to glance over to his only conscious companion. "Considering your present predicament, how much harder is your job now?"

Rehman bucked fruitlessly against his bonds. "You smug bastard! When I get out of here…"

"Now what makes you think I'm gonna let you go?"

Rehman paused, brow furrowing as the implications of the statement rang in his mind. His lip curled with one last chance at bravado. "You're an American. Your government frowns upon anything ignoble."

Montgomery inclined his head in agreement. "True, Raymond." He leaned forward, face inches away. "But there are certain branches of certain agencies to which the government turns a blind eye. It's for the greater good, you see." The next words shook his captive to the core.

"I'm part of one of those agencies."

Charles Montgomery straightened, backing up a few steps so he could look at Rehman. "Now I've got a problem, Raymond. It's a bit of a riddle, if you will. I think you can help me." He launched into a tale, oblivious to the rather incensed man beside him. "So here I was, a nice evening, thinking I was gambling for charity. Then I see you. Now, I'm wondering to myself, 'What's a Palestinian middleman doing here?' I mean, surely he's got better things to do than attend one of these ridiculous functions. I mean, I don't like them very much myself. It's all a bit pretentious, to be honest."

He paced before Rehman, continuing his anecdote. "Then I recognized Mr. Livni, and it came to me. It looks like he does have better things to do."

"Now I'm going to ask you nicely, Raymond." Ebony eyes bore into his Rehman's, the intensity seeming as though he was peeling away the layers to the truth beneath. "Is there anything else planned concerning Kalev Livni?"

His only answer was what could only be construed as some sort of Arabic swear word, most likely concerning illicit relations to a maternal figure.

Montgomery continued, undeterred. "Well, you see, that's a problem, Raymond. The United States government frowns upon men like you. It wouldn't do to have the brother of a prominent Israeli dignitary disappear on American soil, bad foreign relations, you understand."

Montgomery leaned back, stating his intent plainly. "I have options. I could let you go and have you answer to your employers who would probably be very or I could hand you over to the United States government. Either way, my hands are washed of you."

He rose from his seat, hand raised to his ear. "Casey –"

Charles Montgomery halted as a shout came from his trussed up captive.

"I know who you are!"

"Hold that thought…"

"I know you're that CEO of that new corporation. I know people who can make your life a living hell." At the tensing of Montgomery's shoulders, Rehman blundered forward, not knowing the extent he was pushing his captor.

"I've seen that blonde whore always on your arm. You wouldn't want something to happen to her, would you? It would sure make your nights long and lonely. I can tell she's a wild one. Tell me, Mr. Montgomery, is it true what you Americans say? Do blondes have more fun?"

Montgomery's head snapped up. His eyes flicked to the gardenia at his lapel. "Never mind…"

At his words, Charles Montgomery rotated, his gun appearing in his hand almost by magic. Rehman shied back realizing way too late he had said the wrong thing, the man looming in his direction looking for all the world like an avenging angel of death. Montgomery stalked towards him, his cut jacket billowing behind him, his bowtie undone beneath the waistcoat, and the palpable fire burning in eyes darkening the amber spheres to a smoldering ebony.

Montgomery held the gun loose at his side, not threatening at the moment but clearly visible and clearly cocked and locked. His fingers tightened around the handle, index finger twitching on the trigger. Gashes coated with blood adorned the skin over his knuckles as the lip split slightly on the bottom bared the teeth hidden. He could feel the blood pounding in his veins, could hear the roaring of the animal caged within to defend his mate's honor. His posture was predatory in its intensity, his muscles bunched as his composure dangled by a precariously swaying thread.

He stopped a foot from the man trussed up in the unforgiving chair, and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, but the sound reverberated through the room.

"I was gonna let you walk away, Raymond. I was gonna disappear and let the people you work for deal with your miserable existence. You see, people like that don't care what happened to your target, they just care that you didn't deliver. My name would be meaningless to them. They would have tortured you to teach you a lesson, and you might have felt some pain…okay, a lot of pain, but you would still keep your sad, pitiful life."

Rehman swallowed, his breaths coming in rough, shallow pants teeming with fear. Montgomery's voice was still painfully controlled, giving no indication to his intent.

"But you see, you committed the greatest sin in my book. You insulted the woman I love. This," a lazy flick of his wrist gestured between them, "was just business. Now, you've made it personal." Montgomery raised the gun.

"For that, I'm not going to be so charitable. I'm gonna handle you personally. I could have even made your demise quick and painless."

Rehman screamed as two bullets impacted with his kneecaps and two more shred his shoulders. He drew in a deep inhale, possibly his last as he felt the cold, hard steel of muzzle pressing into his forehead, craning his neck back so that he was forced to look into up into the cold, bottomless, ebony eyes. He didn't know if it was just his pain-delusional mind or a trick of the lighting, but those eyes, Montgomery's eyes, seemed to sparkle with a burning, smoldering fire. It was like looking into the heart of Dante's Inferno and seeing his fate. In that black hole devoid of emotion, there was no compassion, no mercy, only the callous brutality of a decisive killer. Rehman knew he had just taken his last breath.

"But you don't even deserve the courtesy."

With a slight pressure, the bullet ejected from its chamber, finding its mark with deadly accuracy. With the slight thump of a body plummeting to join its counterparts, the only sound permeating the somber atmosphere was the slight clicking of dress shoes on cement as Charles Montgomery strode away. His steps had neither pause nor falter as he composed himself, fixing his tie and buttoning up his suit jacket. He commandeered the SUV used to transport him to the docks and called in the cleaners for the mess he had made. A quick stop to the bathroom cleaned away any evidence of his activities, and he emerged looking just as he had earlier in the evening. The weapon once in his hand was gone, holstered away as Charles Montgomery entered the main floor of the gala, a charming smile greeting a passing couple and a wink responding to a lingering look from a nearby socialite. He must have passed fifty people in his jaunt to the door and the rest had surely seen him from afar. Not one was any the wiser.

As soon as Charles Montgomery exited the party, sliding into his limousine, he loosened his tie, shucked off his jacket and vest, rolled up his sleeves, and slumped back into his seat. Chuck Bartowski once again.

"What happened, Bartowski?"

"Nothing," Chuck answered, gaze impassive as he locked eyes with John Casey. "Target neutralized. Sent in the cleaners. Done."

Casey's brows shot upward before he barked into a communications link, making sure the cleanup crew had indeed followed Chuck's orders.

Sarah slid into the seat next to her fiancé. Casey might have accepted his answer, but she knew better.

"You gonna be okay?"

Chuck didn't answer for the longest time, his thumb playing with the diamond ring gracing the appropriate finger of her left hand. He studied the ring for a moment, remembering the adventure he had taken to procure it, agonizing over the design, not settling for anything less than perfect, dragging Ellie from Tiffany's to Cartier, to Harry Winston before he found the ideal ring. He had spared no expense, and despite her suspicions, wouldn't tell her the price. The ring was a symbol, he supposed. Sarah Walker was now fully integrated into Chuck Bartowski's world. He felt the gun holstered at the small of his back. The same gun that had taken a life with his hand at the trigger. Chuck Bartowski was now fully integrated into Sarah Walker's world.

He looked from the ring to her expectant eyes, forcing a smile on his face. Only she could see it was half-hearted.

"Yeah."

- - -

Chuck and Sarah ascended the stairs to their condominium, fresh from their report to the brass. Chuck's account had been brief and to the point, highlighting his rescue of Livni and killing of Rehman. Sarah had frowned when he had expressed little to no emotion when he described his encounter with the Palestinian middleman. He hadn't flinched when he described Rehman's final moments, ending in a bullet right between the eyes. He had only given a curt nod when Beckman and Graham congratulated the success of the mission and had barely spoken on the ride home. Sarah opened her mouth to speak as they entered their shared condo when Chuck's next actions banished all coherent thought from her mind.

Chuck whirled suddenly, pushing Sarah back against the door. A squeak flew from her lungs as her back impacted against the unyielding wood, swallowed by his mouth covering hers. His lips plundered hers mercilessly, a dual armament of passion and desperation to feel anything other than the cold-blooded killer he was but hours ago. A feral growl tore through his throat as an eager tongue slipped past his defenses to tangle with his. One hand slipped beneath her tank top, molding around a breast as the other clenched around a lean thigh. His growl softened to a hiss as a pair of deft hands tugged his shirt from his trousers, parting the fabric with one deft yank. Neither noticed as buttons skittered across the floor, the expensive fabric pooling on the polished hardwood. Sarah tore her mouth from his with a gasp, breaking contact only to whip her own shirt off her body. Chuck hooked a sturdy arm beneath her thighs, boosting her up to align her hips to his, and the fabric fluttered from her fingertips as his lips meandered to her pulse point. He blew out a rough breath as a delicious moan rippled from her throat, her fingers grappling for purchase in his hair and the taut skin of his shoulder blades. The delicious friction rollicked through his groin as the slippery wool of his trousers of met the rough denim her jeans as hips rolled and breathy exhales ground out frustrations in an attempt to seek release.

Unsatisfied with their frantic rocking, Chuck swiveled, still shuffling towards the bedroom. Stooping over, he practically threw Sarah onto the mattress as their hips disengaged from to yank off remaining clothing. Chuck crawled back up Sarah's lithe body, his once bumbling frame becoming panther-like with its grace and predatory determination. Lowering himself down to his forearms, the slightly tanned shade framing the porcelain loveliness he adored, his hot breath skated along the skin already raising with goose bumps. He raised his eyes to Sarah's countenance, intent on branding her as his own the way she had often reciprocated when he finally focused on his target, his prey, and he paused.

Chuck gazed down at the marvelous beauty beneath him, her eyes shining up at him with absolute love and potent desire, and as though a switch was flicked in his psyche, his posture relaxed, the crease in his brow smoothened, and his eyes softened, warming from the smoldering, inky ebony to the warmth of creamy cocoa. With a touch bearing the gentle temperament of a whisper, careful fingertips glided up a lean thigh, skated over the curve of a hip, tripped over the graceful ridges of a defined abdomen, ghosted over the swell of a breast, and traced over the indent of a collarbone to cup the gorgeous features of his fiancée.

Sarah's eyes widened as Chuck dipped his head down, his lips caressing hers in the most loving, most tender of kisses, almost startled at the rapid transition from primal aggressor to gentle romantic. His hands dragged over her body, painstakingly worshipping as his movements slowed and gentled, becoming meticulous as though the passion could be siphoned through his very fingertips. His nose followed the path of his lips in an amorous caress as he latched onto her breast, sending a spark rippling through her body. Her back arched, arms falling helplessly overhead, and when her eyes returned to his, she had to take a deep inhale at the unadulterated passion shining in the chocolate depths.

Chuck's mouth curved upward in an indulgent smile, and she cradled his hips in anticipation, biting her lip at the rather intent expression gracing his features. Chuck lowered his head, pressing a kiss to her lips and slipping within her depths in one smooth, effortless stroke. Sarah let out a breathy moan as he unerringly hit the spot that sent her pulse kicking into high gear. Her eyelids fluttered as he slid rough, calloused palms over her hips. His hands continued their jaunt, one supporting her lower back, the other finding her free hand clenched in her pillow. Their fingers intertwined, her hand tightening over his as reverent lips pressed open-mouthed kisses over every inch of skin he could reach. His hips rolled forward, meeting hers in the age-old rhythm that sent them both spiraling to delicious release. Her breaths quickened in time with his pace, nails raking down his back as the sensations quaked through every live nerve. She tensed in his arms, fingers tightening in his curls. Her lips found his pulse point, suckling frantically to quell the moans that intensified with one particularly heady thrust. Her pants strained into a persistent hum. She was close, so so close. _Yes_. There it was. His given name sounded breathlessly as she reached her peak, her orgasm sending shockwaves rollicking through her body. Chuck slowed his movements, letting her ride the waves out.

His eyes met her hazy ones, the aftermath from her climax causing the normally brilliant spheres to cloud over like the sky before a rainstorm. He smiled against her skin, stilling for a moment. This was something familiar. Something he knew intimately only as Chuck Bartowski. This was something pure. Something untainted.

"Sarah…"

Her name flew from his lips in a reverent whisper that swiftly transition into a mindless chant with every forward stroke. Still coming down from the high induced from her orgasm, Sarah was slow to respond, but as Chuck worked his hips steadily, he could feel her build up once more. As though their joining sent a sizzle of electricity hurtling through his veins, Chuck felt his nerves come alive, sensitizing every inch of skin susceptible to his touch. He felt the contrast of his hard, masculine planes against her womanly softness. He felt the pressure of her fingers as they tightened against his skin. Her hands wandered again, finally reaching their destination amidst the curls of his hair. The slick, luscious slide of him against her sent another shock fanning outward, occupying every cell within her body.

Chuck buried his head in the crook of her neck, pouring everything in him into their joining. Each reciprocated murmur of his name fluttering from her mouth rang straight to his heart, filling the gap ripped away with a series of gunshots. Each thrust reminded him of his humanity, his love for her. And as his release surged through him, he solidified himself. He was not just the persona of Charles Montgomery. He was Chuck Bartowski as well. Charles Montgomery killed without a second thought. Chuck Bartowski could love.

- - -

Chuck lay on his back, Sarah draped over his torso, their chests rising and falling in synchronized breaths. Her head was pillowed on his breast, nestled comfortably in the crook of his neck. His right arm was slung around her back, the hand traveling up and down from her shoulders down to the curve of her hip. One of her legs was thrown over his, her left hand braced on the curve of his pectoral. He felt the soft golden strands tickle his cheek, her fingertips tracing random patterns on his chest. He lifted his free hand, gentle fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Sarah sighed in utter contentment, her nose taking in the Chuck scent that had given her so much comfort when his presence was absent. Drawing in a deep breath, she finally found enough air to fill her lungs.

"Whoa."

Chuck's lips unerringly found the crown of Sarah's head, curved upward in a smile. "Hmmm, despite its brevity, that was definitely one of your more glowing compliments."

Sarah burrowed deeper into his embrace, content in the rather boneless state of her limbs. "I could say the same of you…"

"Ah, but it isn't the duration, but the quality," Chuck quipped. "And I never lack in quality."

The mirth faded from Chuck's expression as he realized the reason for this rather spontaneous burst of passion, and he returned a blank stare to the ceiling.

"Hey," Sarah's soft voice called him back from his ruminative state, her fingers tapping against his breast. "You're getting away from me here."

"Is it always like this?"

He could feel Sarah pause, her fingers stilling on his pectoral. She knew what he meant.

"Do you remember what you felt that day you saw me shoot that Fulcrum agent in cold-blood our second Christmas together?"

Chuck nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"I felt that, too," Sarah admitted. "I always do. Every time I take a life. I've just learned by now that I can't show it. I have to stay stoic. I have to push everything down. And that's what you have to do, too."

"It's hard," Chuck confessed.

"I know it is," Sarah soothed. "But it has to be done."

"I kept thinking about it all, you know? What if he had a family? What if I just left some kid fatherless, some woman a widow?" Chuck turned his head slightly, finally meeting her concerned gaze. "Does it get better?"

"Yeah, at times," Sarah conceded. "You just have to keep things in perspective. What we do isn't morally right, but it is justified considering the general nature of our victims."

Chuck nodded. "Ah, yes…the all-formidable and completely vague 'greater good.'"

Sarah nudged him gently. "You know, it helps that you have a lot of people you can talk to about this. It will help you deal."

"Yeah…" Chuck sighed. Rolling slightly, he propped his head up on a hand. "So it doesn't get easy?"

Sarah returned his sigh, hers a bit more weighted. "What do you want me to say, Chuck? If it were easy, homicide rates would skyrocket…"

"I don't know," Chuck admitted in concession. "Lie to me."

Sarah quirked an eyebrow, mimicking his posture, outwardly confused at his ostensibly unrelated statement. "What?"

"Lie to me," he repeated. "Tell me it's all simple. Give me the fairy tale I need to delusion myself for a bit."

"It's all _terribly_ simple," Sarah murmured, threading her fingers through his. "The good guys always win, the bad guys get their justice, no one ever dies during it all, and the hero gets the happy ending."

Chuck didn't speak for the longest time, only playing with the fingers in his grasp. His thumb stroked the diamond gracing her finger. Finally, he let his head fall back onto the pillow, gathering Sarah into his arms.

"Liar."

Sarah snickered slightly, shifting so that she lay fully atop of him, her knees settling on either side of his hips. As his palms cradled her waist, she felt the familiar spark shoot through every nerve. "You know better than I do that it can't be easy…" She looked him straight in the eye.

"And I don't think you'd ever want it to be easy."

"Why?" Chuck couldn't help but ask.

"Because the day you find it easy is the day that Chuck Bartowski dies and all that's left is Charles Montgomery." Sarah's eyes held a grave intensity. "And I don't _ever_ want to lose Chuck Bartowski."

Chuck sighed, running his palms down her flanks then back up again. "I don't want to lose Chuck Bartowski either."

Sarah smiled, stretching up slightly to press a kiss to the bumpy nose she loved so much. The friction prompted a groan from the man beneath her, and her smile only widened. "Good. Nice to know we see eye to eye."

Chuck hesitated a moment before venturing with another question. "Did you know it was going to come to this?"

"What, you eventually becoming an agent?"

Sarah could feel Chuck's nod as she folded her arms on his chest, nestling her chin atop the limbs. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged as best he could in his position. "I don't know. It all seemed so easy once you beat the bumbling out of me. Almost like I was meant to do this."

"You were, Chuck," Sarah answered firmly. "There was a reason Fleming wanted you so bad as a potential recruit." Sarah ticked off her points. "One, you have the whole subliminal image thing, that's obviously valuable in since we can condense information into a few visual clues and you'd be able to the rest subliminally. Then there're your deduction skills, your improvisational techniques, and the fact that the masses as a whole are completely susceptible to your Chuck charm." She looked at him in all seriousness.

"I think you _were_ meant for this job."

"I was meant for lies, deception, and cold-blooded killing?"

"No," Sarah corrected. "You were meant to do so much more than slave away at a Buy More. The fact that you've evolved into a good agent is just highlighting that." Sarah traced the lines on his collarbone.

"Chuck, you never got used to lying to Ellie, you could never really consciously deceive anyone," Sarah murmured, "and I don't want you to get used to killing. To survive, that's different, but never in cold blood."

Chuck nodded. "I get it. When I'm Charles Montgomery, I'm not Chuck Bartowski…"

"Exactly," Sarah affirmed. "I never want you to forget that one isn't the other. That's the way we stay sane in this business."

She scooted up, laying a kiss on his neck. "You did well on your first solo mission, Agent Bartowski."

Chuck laughed, folding his arms around her back. "At least now I'm not in a constant state of fear and paranoia."

Sarah cocked an eyebrow at the slight inconsistency to the statement. "You're not?"

"Nope, now it's an eternal state of fear and paranoia."

Sarah looked nonplussed, unsure of the disparity. "Um, there's a difference?"

"First I was just worried about the information in my head and making sure that stays safe. Now, I'm worried about that, keeping everyone ignorant of the whole thing, and being Charles Montgomery on missions without making the connection that Charles Montgomery and Chuck Bartowski are essentially the same person."

Sarah cocked an eyebrow. "Is it worth it?"

Chuck thought about it, wondering how long he could feign consideration before Sarah brought out the ammunition. He could see her eyes narrow and flash and hastened to utter a reply.

"Hmmm…national security or you?" Chuck looked like he was seriously considering his options. "Both have been seriously detrimental to my health…"

Sarah's hand slapped against his chest. "Chuck!"

He laughed, bucking slightly from the impact. "Of course it was worth it. Bryce Larkin is a self-righteous, arrogant bastard, but he did lead me to you. The hell and high water he put me through was worth it."

Enthralled by his answer, Sarah shifted oh-so slightly in a manner that had Chuck unleashing a groan, his hands dropping from Sarah's hips to clench in the sheets.

"Charmer," she accused lovingly.

"And proud of it," came the strangled response. "Especially when you show your appreciation like that."

"I love you, Chuck," Sarah murmured, her hips rocking in the gentle rhythm that conveyed the true extent of her words. "The things you do will never change that." She halted slightly in her movements, framing his face in her palms.

Chuck could only nod, struck mute at her words and rather precarious position.

"Charles Carmichael, Hans Lichtenstein, Jorge the Waiter, François Espoir," Chuck laughed as she named off a few of the aliases he had used in the past, "Charles Montgomery…you may play all of these guys, but they're just names. They aren't you. And I like Chuck Bartowski best."

"Thanks, Sarah." Chuck smiled a mischievous, impish smile that didn't occur too often. "You know…I have to say, I never really liked the name Sarah Walker all too much."

Sarah's eyes flashed a shade anyone who knew her well enough knew they were flirting with extremely dangerous territory. "You don't…"

"Nope," Chuck winked. "I think Sarah _Bartowski_ sounds a lot better."

"…Nice save, Chuck. Very nice save."

_And cut! I hope everyone enjoyed that. Kudos to BtVS for a line that I modified for my use. It's a bit of a divergence from the happy family that has inhabited the last few chapters, so I hop you all liked this change of pace. I think I put enough of a disparity between Charles Montgomery and Chuck Bartowski as well. My intention was to make Charles Montgomery, very smooth, very suave, very put-together. Therefore, Chuck Bartowski could still be a bit hapless, a bit clueless, and certainly flawed. Charles Montgomery is Chuck's professional handle in both Traversal business and government business. Chuck, is…Chuck at home and with the family. I hope that point was clear in the story. As for the next installment, I'm not quite sure where to go with it. I was thinking obviously the Landon one or a piece with Jack Burton, but I'm not too sure where to go with either of them. We'll see what gets finished first…_

_Roxy_


	10. Chuck and Sarah vs the Principal

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing_

**Rating:** _K+ for puckish acts against authority figures._

**Summary:** _What happens when you cross the offspring of two spies who share an inordinate amount of mischief between them with an arrogant educator? Well, a prank not quite like anything middle schools have seen before…_

**Timeline:** _The twins are twelve, Grady is six, and Shane is four._

**Alternate Characters:**

_Reed Donner – Headmaster of Pennington Preparatory Academy._

_Miranda Richards – Secretary of Pennington._

_Jackson Hayes – Student Body President._

_Scott Stewarts – Sports representative._

_The Landon story is coming up! I swear! I just got very excited with a thread at the forums that prompted me to write this instead. If you liked the little scheme the twins cooked up at the end of the sixth chapter, Chuck vs. the Soccer Mom, I know you'll like this chapter. It's basically the twins getting into some good old fashioned mischief. I admit, it's a little bit fantastical, but I think it fits for Landon and Maddie._

_A little shout-out also goes out to the Beyonce "Single Ladies" dance that I've seen a million times on YouTube in parodies of all manifestations. It is the inspiration for the prank. During the actual prank, pull up the video with the effeminate man dancing to the song…that was the inspiration. It will give you a good visual to what they are seeing._

_P.S. __**Brickroad**__, this is all your doing!_

**Chapter 10**

_Chuck and Sarah vs. the Principal's Office_

It was decided a long time ago.

Landon Charles and Madeline Eleanor Bartowski were not normal children.

It was not normal to be born of two of the best espionage operatives the CIA could offer. It was not normal that their extended family included a semi-retired Air Force Colonel-turned NSA agent, another CIA operative, and a handful of other agents from various branches. It wasn't normal that they had certain talents that seemed to transcend the abilities of normal twelve year-olds. And it certainly wasn't normal that they found all of that completely normal…

Since they had been lucid enough to understand the world, the twins knew they had been blessed with certain gifts. When Madeline was six and got upset that Landon wasn't properly appreciating her perfect drawing of a sparkly fairy princess, she threw her Crayola crayon at her brother. Imagine her surprise as she watched it knife in a perfect spiral to embed in the wall behind her twin. What was even more amazing was that Landon had rather artfully dodged the projectile and in the same motion, flicked his gummy eraser that smacked his sister right between the eyes.

Rather than being upset at one another, they had been curious about their abilities, and, since then, the pair had covertly explored their talents by indulging in activities that geared towards this weird surprise. Gymnastics honed the propensity to defy gravity rather acrobatically, sports helped the agility that seemed natural, and trips to their father's work helped them understand the workings of technology that they seemed to absorb definitively. It wasn't until they were eight that both figured out the real reason behind their slightly otherworldly talents. Their parents were spies. Not only were they spies, they were the best the CIA could offer, and with their father housing the latest update of Intersect in his head, they were the world's highest priority of intelligence assets. This wasn't by accident. This was pure, unadulterated genetics.

It really figured…

The twins rationalized that there were two options to their predicament: ignore their gifts, force normality onto themselves, and live in their blissful ignorance, or embrace their abnormality and hone their talents.

They chose the latter.

- - -

For a school, Pennington Preparatory Academy was about as well-guarded as the Pentagon. A person would be hard pressed to successfully break into the school for whatever motive the heart desired. Of course, that rather intimidating fact didn't stop a pair of rather innovative twelve-year olds from being dissuaded from their plan.

It was easy to procure a ride from their Uncle Casey, pleading a need to finish an AV project before school started. Their mother had already begun the trek to UCLA for her morning sections and their father had stayed at the office for the night to get ready for the big presentation to the Yukimora Company in the morning. And so, a good two hours before school was set to begin, Landon and Madeline found themselves outside the doors of Pennington Preparatory.

With a stealth born from genetics and refined through coordination, the twins slunk into the darkened halls. A few teachers would be about, but it wasn't too abnormal to see the occasional student lurking in the halls before hours. However, it was quite abnormal to find those occasional students trying to break into the teacher's lounge.

Landon hovered over the lock where a keypad was situated. He hooked the device in his hand up to the keypad, waiting for the beep that signified the password cracked. At the affirming twitter, the twins exchanged a fist bump and punched in the appropriate number before entering the forbidden territory.

"Hmmm," Landon mused, craning his neck to take in the lounge. "It's nice, but not quite what I expected."

Maddie quirked an eyebrow, surveying the room. The walls were a non-descript beige color, the furniture tasteful but simple. "What did you expect?"

"The dungeon torture room?" Landon joked.

Maddie shook her head. "As if thumb screws and guillotines are chic enough for Pennington."

Landon smirked. "Yet being under the thumb of D-Bag Donner is," he quipped. Nudging his sister slightly, he grinned. "Let's get started. You scope out a space?"

Maddie nodded, pointing up to the ceiling. "Yep. There."

Landon eyed the space in question. The vent was situated between a pair of bookshelves. Between the ceiling and the top of the shelves, there wasn't enough room for her to fully stand up. He returned his gaze to his sister.

"You got it?"

Maddie's head, cocked to the side and appraising her destination, nodded slowly. "Oh yeah. I totally got it."

Nodding, Landon positioned himself in the corner between the bookshelves. Maddie backed away slightly before running towards her brother. Bracing both palms on his shoulders and one foot on his interlocked hands, she flew upward between the small space between the storage units with his hard push. Ducking her head, she flung her legs out, her split position supported by the shelves on both sides.

Maddie shot a smug smirk to her brother as she jokingly clapped her hands before raising them in a 'V' over her head in a silent mock-cheer. Landon laughed as she reached up, jiggling the vent loose before slipping up into the interior of the school.

Landon spoke into their comm. link, testing out their equipment. "Ball Boy to Cheer Chick."

"Read you loud and clear, Ball Boy," came Maddie's reply.

Landon grinned. "Operation D-Bag Exposed is a go…We have an hour."

- - -

Landon snuck through the slightly darkened hallways of Pennington Prep, stopping at a bathroom. He flicked an Out of Order sign onto the door before slipping in and perching himself on the furthest toilet. Opening his bag, he extracted his laptop and system, booting the computer up within seconds. Adjusting the tiny antenna, he set to work infiltrating the Pennington system right to the video feed into all classrooms.

Landon grinned from his spot on the toilet as he shred the school's rather flimsy defenses, his fingers flying across the keys. His left hand still punching across the pad, Landon raised his right to his ear, activating the communications link to his sister currently slinking her way through the vents.

"Alright, I'm in. Where are you?"

"Judging from the smell, right above the science labs. I think Mr. Riganti cooked over the Bunsen burners again."

"Gross…pancakes a la sulfur…"

Maddie giggled softly, army-crawling through the slim space over the vents. With deliberate precision, she removed the grate, popping her head down into the office of a certain high authority figure. With the grace in no way, shape, or form gifted to her by the Bartowski side of her genes, she flipped down to the carpeted floor.

"I'm in. Video feed in three, two, one…"

Landon smirked as the image came online, showing his sister pulling faces at the camera. "Attractive, Maddie."

Maddie cocked an eyebrow at her brother, busy fixing the miniscule camera to a bookcase. "Are you kidding, bro? I make this look good."

Landon rolled his eyes. "They really should build shrines to your vanity."

"It's not vanity, it's…confidence in my appearance."

"That's just a roundabout way of saying vanity," Landon remarked dryly.

"If you wanna blame anyone, blame our parents for making squishy and combining their genes to make this vision of perfection." Maddie jokingly replied, moving over to another side of the room to place another camera.

Landon wrinkled his nose. "No offense, Mads, but I really don't want a visual of our parents 'making squishy.'"

Maddie laughed. "What? You have to know we weren't just hatched. We aren't Uncle Casey."

"I am fine in my firm belief that that the stork dropped us off," Landon deadpanned. "Don't rob me of my ignorance."

"And how do you explain Grady and Shane?"

"Test tubes," Landon answered plainly.

"You're the test tube," Maddie muttered. Fitting the final camera in place, she stepped back and observed her handiwork. "Okay, I'm done."

"You got a way back up?"

Maddie surveyed the room before answering. "Yup. Sure do."

She retreated towards the doorway before running towards the desk. With a flying leap, she braced a foot against the surface before transferring her momentum to the side. With her palms on the inside of the vent, she hauled herself back up and into the depths.

Settled in the vents, Maddie extracted a small, handheld monitor from her belt. "I'm transferring feed to me. You'll be down until I'm done."

Landon typed in a command to his computer, nodding his affirmative and answering absently. "Got it..."

As the music filtered through his ears, Landon's eyes popped wide open. "Is that…?"

Maddie's voice was muffled from hiding her laughter. "Uh-huh."

"And is he…?"

"You betcha."

Landon's grin was nothing short of delighted. "Oh, man, I can't wait for this visual."

A soft chuckle reached his ears. "Trust me, bro, this is top ten for sure."

"Better than –"

"Ten-fold," Maddie responded, that sent her invaluable prize to her brother.

Landon's eyes widened as he processed what had just been downloaded. Immediately, he began transferring the feed to suit their purposes.

"Oh, dear sister, this is _way_ more than ten-fold…"

- - -

Landon and Maddie trekked to their second class of the morning, Advanced Mathematics with Ms. Bergstrom. Everything about them screamed nonchalance. They greeted their teacher, exchanged hellos with their friends, and took their seats, Landon to the left of Madeline. Nothing seemed out of place or out of the ordinary.

As the final bell rang, the last students trickling in through the doors, Ms. Bergstrom called for attention before the television screen in the corner of the room flashed the Pennington school crest before a the face of a grinning eighth grader filled the screen.

"Good morning, Pennington Prep. This is Jackson Hayes, your student body president here with your morning announcements."

The twins tuned out Jackson's voice enthused with Pennington spirit, went through the day's events and announcements. Finally, he reached the spot the twins were waiting for.

"And now, our sports reporter Scott Stewarts with the latest scores."

"Good morning, Knights. It was a great weekend for Pennington sports. This weekend, the Lady Knights pulled off an impressive victory against the Pirates of St. Augustus. The game went down to the wire before Lindsay Hepler pulled off this amazing shot with five seconds left in regulation…"

There was a pause as the camera shifted from Scott's face to the footage taken during the weekend. However, instead of the video of the girls' basketball game, a rather familiar view of the Headmaster's office filled the screen.

The headmaster slid into view, clad only in his pants and an untucked dress shirt, obviously getting ready for the school day. His head bobbed to the music filtering through the speakers behind his desk. Things turned interesting once the sound of Beyonce Knowles' "Single Ladies" song came on. But what came next blew away ever single perception of the stuffy, strict educator.

With a flexibility and efficiency that baffled the mind, Headmaster Donner broke into the dance many of them had seen countless times before via the Internet or those throwback music video shows. It was rather flummoxing to see the headmaster move in almost perfect synchronization with what they knew was the original choreography. His toes were pointed, hands perfectly arched, and his body moved in perfect unison with the music.

All eyes widened as the chorus came and the Headmaster performed a rather skillful and comprehensive hip roll in time to the beat. Jaws dropped as his hips dropped, bouncing once on his haunches before rolling right back up, complete with the back arch. Squeals and shrieks of laughter sounded as the headmaster placed his hands to his waist, pelvis thrusting rather vigorously first forward, then to the side. Just as he geared up to what surely had the makings of an upper body shimmy, the tape abruptly cut, and a red-faced Jackson Hayes appeared back into view. Whether the tinge to his cheeks was out of embarrassment or an effort to hold back his laughter, no one knew.

"Er…sorry about that everyone. We seem to have experienced some…er, technical difficulties. That will be it for this morning's announcements. For anyone curious about the rest of the announcements, they will be posted outside of the main office." Jackson paused as a voice addressed him off camera, the murmurs unable to be discerned. He grinned sheepishly.

"Oh, and Landon and Madeline Bartowski, the headmaster wants to see you in his office. Go Knights!" he ended weakly.

All eyes turned to the twins as they simultaneously rose, packing their things, pictures of complete innocence. No one dared to say it, and the entire school knew exactly who was behind the prank, but no one could deny what had just occurred was the most brilliant thing they had ever seen. Ever.

- - -

Mrs. Richards glanced down at the memo Headmaster Donner had just placed on her desk and shook her head. Miranda Richards was a wizened veteran of Pennington Preparatory Academy. She had seen many generations of bright men and women prowl through the halls. Some went on to become doctors and lawyers, some went on to lead Fortune 500 companies – she was pretty sure a president or two stopped by – but out of those future leaders of the free world, out of all the success stories Pennington Alumni boasted, not one of those students were anything quite like the Bartowski twins.

She wasn't sure what to make of the pair. Their parents held a sort of glowing notoriety amidst the general population, with their father taking the technology world by storm and their mother a well-respected criminologist. Landon and Madeline were bright children, almost frighteningly so, but there was something different about them. They weren't arrogant, weren't spoiled, and certainly didn't believe they were entitled to anything as children with their caliber of parent were wont to do. Certainly, they had their foibles. Madeline could be rather brash at times and Landon was often so quiet in a manner that sometimes could be misconstrued as standoffish, but overall, they were polite, good-humored, kind-hearted children.

But what really baffled Mrs. Richards was the mannerisms of the Bartowski twins. Where other twelve year-olds wandered in their blissful ignorance, Landon and Madeline always seemed to be aware of their surroundings, constantly studying the world around them. Where their peers were content in their innate clumsiness that came with the dawn of puberty, Madeline and Landon moved with an almost economy of motion as though each step was calculated towards a greater purpose. And they certainly didn't talk like twelve year-olds. Where most children had speech littered with the mumbled 'ums' and sloppy vernacular of the present culture, the twins were strangely very articulate and certainly better spoken than most children over five years their senior. She had often been witness to the multiple times Landon and Madeline talked circles around the Headmaster, their clever wit often besting the educator rather thoroughly.

"Hello, Mrs. Richards."

The secretary jumped as a pair of voices, one boyishly masculine and one girlishly feminine addressed her in unison, and her eyes shot up to find the Bartowski twins grinning up at her. She swiveled her head, confused.

"How the devil did you two get in here?"

"Through the door, ma'am," Landon replied, hitching a thumb towards the glass-paned entryway.

Mrs. Richards frowned. She hadn't even heard the pair come in. Brushing her confusion off, she narrowed her eyes at the twins. "What did you two do this time?"

The cheeky grins transitioned rapidly into deviously innocent expressions as Landon and Madeline sniffed slightly, turning their noses upward, hands clasped behind their backs.

"Now, Mrs. Richards," Maddie began.

"That hurts that you would think so ill of us," Landon finished.

Mrs. Richards sighed, shaking her head. "You two had something to do with the announcements, didn't you? This is the third time in two weeks," she commented. "You know your parents are probably going to be called in to deal with this."

Each twin shrugged one shoulder, Landon lifted his right and Maddie her left. "We were framed," both insisted in harmony.

"Headmaster Donner has absolutely no proof that we were in any way involved," Landon asserted.

"We know our rights," Maddie added.

Mrs. Richards chuckled. "I hate to break it to you Houdinis," she chided, "but this isn't the federal criminal justice system. It's primary school. You _have_ no rights."

A pair of noses wrinkled in distaste. Maddie shot a dirty look to her brother.

"I told you all that stuff we researched in Mom's office wouldn't do us any good."

Landon rolled his eyes. "I still think proof beyond reasonable doubt applies," he maintained.

"Well then answer me this, Einsteins," the secretary drawled. "Who possibly would have the knowledge and resources to pull of what you two did?"

"Allegedly," came two insistent protests.

"_Allegedly_ committed," Mrs. Richardson conceded.

Landon and Maddie glanced at each other, communicating silently before their shoulders slumped.

"Aw, nuts," Landon grumbled.

"Foiled and just by the secretary," Maddie mumbled in return. "We would've never got it past Donner."

Mrs. Richards laughed. "If it had been a generic, juvenile prank, no one would have been any the wiser," she remarked. "But this had the Bartowski signature all over it."

"I can see it now," Maddie bemoaned. "Two weeks for sure."

Landon shook his head. "No way, I say three."

Maddie eyed her brother, and even an uninformed outsider could see the beginnings of a bet between the siblings.

"Trash for two," Maddie offered.

Landon glared. "Ten days."

"Done."

"My dish duty for two," Landon prompted the counteroffer.

Maddie shook her head. "One. Uncle Neil's birthday is coming up which means –"

"Aunt Ellie's gonna go crazy at the house…" Landon nodded. "Fine."

That assumption was only solidified as the pair shook, stakes obviously agreed on.

"For our sakes, I seriously hope you lose that bet, bro," Maddie muttered.

"Me, too, Mads. Me, too."

Their conversation faded away as the tall, slender form of the Headmaster. Glaring down at the Bartowski twins, he didn't say a word, just pointed an authoritative finger towards his office.

- - -

Reed Donner was a proud man. He had worked hard to get to where he was: the headmaster of one of the most prestigious primary schools this side of the Mississippi river. He held immense pride in his accomplishments and fancied himself an innovator in the educational field. He demanded and commanded respect. That being said, the events that had just transpired were in no way, shape, or form at all acceptable to his authoritative sensibilities.

Headmaster Donner was a fairly young man for his given profession. He had risen to prominence as a brilliant educator and wowed the board of directors for Pennington with his radical and aggressive style for discipline as well as the completeness of communication with his staff. One could say his accomplishments had warranted a slight arrogance in his demeanor, but if you were to ask Reed Donner, he would claim it as a simple entitlement. He liked to think that the students both feared and respected him, using that fear and respect as a mechanism that diverted them from the usual mischief of the adolescent years. However, much of that image was a manifestation of his rather deluded mind. Ask his colleagues what they felt about him and they would answer the man was pompous, haughty, and unnecessarily self-absorbed. Ask what the students thought about him, they would answer in terms unaccepted by most censure conditions.

So, being thwarted by the pair in front of him for the umpteenth time did not sit well with the man that liked to believe he kept his iron fist clasped around the insubordinate tendencies of preteen students.

Headmaster Donner glared at the twins, both straight-backed and doe-eyed in their chairs, their hands clasped dutifully in their laps.

"What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"We didn't do it," came the emphatic and combined reply.

Headmaster Donner rolled his eyes. "Anything else?"

"Just one," Maddie began.

"Where's your proof?" Landon finished.

"I don't need proof," Donner growled. The twins were unfazed. No offense to the Headmaster, but their Uncle Morgan was more menacing. The beard itself was enough to strike fear in the unassuming heart.

"I know it was you two."

"Headmaster Donner, for the sake of upholding the academy's integrity," Once again one twin began the sentence, this time Madeline.

Landon cocked an eyebrow, a mirror image of his twin. "Don't you think that it would be prudent to offer proof before accusing us of a crime we may or may not have committed?"

Donner shook his head, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming in an attempt to keep up with the tennis match way of talking the twins often utilized. "Would you mind stopping that?"

"No," came the simultaneous answer.

"It's a twin thing," Maddie answered.

"Kind of obligatory," Landon added.

Maddie nodded in agreement. "We couldn't stop it if we tried."

Donner glared, slapping his palms on his desk and leaning forward. "Try harder."

The twins didn't respond, only looked serenely up at the Headmaster. Donner growled his frustration, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. The Bartowski siblings were good. Very good…but nothing would stop him from exacting his authority on two precocious children. He readied himself for battle with two very formidable foes.

- - -

Mrs. Richards sighed, sorting out the absences of the day. The Bartowski twins had been in the Headmaster's office for a good while now, and Donner had yet to extract anything other than a quip from them. She chuckled to herself. The CIA should recruit the pair. No interrogator would get anything out of them…

"Excuse me."

For the second time that day, the elderly lady jumped as a voice cut through her thoughts. Mrs. Richards blinked, two forms filling her vision. She hadn't heard them approach; it was as though they had materialized right in front of her. A tall, dark-haired man, his handsome face relaxed into a small smile and a stunningly beautiful blonde hovered on the other side of her desk. Both were clad in well-tailored and expensive clothing, obviously in the midst of the workday, if the man's loosened tie and hastily donned jacket and the woman's coat slung over her arm were of any indication.

Mrs. Richards shook herself from her stupor, smiling congeniality. "Good morning, welcome to Pennington Preparatory. How may I help you?"

"We're Landon and Madeline's parents," the blonde spoke. "We received a call from the headmaster?"

Mrs. Richards' eyes widened. She had heard about the famous Charles Montgomery and his wife, Sarah, the brilliant criminologist, but Pennington had never really seen them in person…until now.

"Oh, yes! Headmaster Donner is expecting you."

Charles Montgomery sighed, shaking his head. "I can only imagine what our children have gotten themselves into." He looked fondly over at his wife. "This is all your fault you know."

Sarah simply cocked an eyebrow in a way strongly reminiscent of the twin terrors that had just passed through the office. "My fault? I'm more than positive you had a hand in this as well."

Charles only smirked. "One word, honey: Intersect."

His wife opened her mouth to refute his statement, only to close it again. She inclined her head in concession. "Touché."

Mrs. Richards punched a button, connecting her to the headmaster. "Headmaster, Mr. Montgomery and Mrs. Bartowski are here."

There was a pause before a decidedly disgruntled voice answer. "Send them in."

Mrs. Richards pointed straight behind her. "Right through that door."

As the pair disappeared into the headmaster's office, Mrs. Richards shook her head. Well, now she could understand where Landon and Madeline got it from.

- - -

"Mr. Montgomery, Mrs. Bartowski, thank you for coming," Headmaster Donner began, rising from his seat and extending a hand. Both shook the offering firmly before settling down in the chairs across from the educator. They noticed their children sitting in seats off to the side, looking no worse for the wear or, for that matter, as though they were anywhere but the headmaster's office.

Headmaster Donner was practically bouncing out of his seat as he surveyed the most powerful man to have ever set foot in his office. Charles Montgomery was a name many knew and admired, and it was truly a treat to have such a man grace his office.

"Mr. Montgomery, I must begin by letting you know how much I admire your work. You have truly set a standard for the technological world that I am sure will not be matched in this lifetime…"

"Headmaster Donner," Charles Montgomery interrupted the man's simpering, "I appreciate your regards, but my wife and I are on very limited time. May we please get to the point of the matter?"

Clearing his throat, slightly embarrassed by his enthusiasm, Headmaster Donner nodded swiftly. "Oh, yes, Mr. Montgomery, I apologize." He turned a sour look to the twins situated to the side.

"I don't know exactly how these two picked up on the sort of skills necessary to achieve such a feat, but they broke into the school system, hacked into the video feed, and forced this to play in every single classroom during the announcement period!"

Chuck and Sarah stared as the now infamous video flashed on the monitor, and Chuck snorted out a snicker, transforming it into a hacking cough that prompted a sharp elbow to the ribs from his wife. Sarah, for her own part, was trying hard not to laugh as well. Maddie and Landon seemed impassively contrite, but their parents could see the unmistakable twinkle of mischief.

Headmaster Donner noticeably pinked and clicked the video off with a sharp jab of his thumb. He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered over at the twins.

"Now Landon and Madeline are two exceptionally bright children," Headmaster Donner began, "certainly amongst the top in their class. However, I'm curious to see how two twelve year-old children infiltrated the system all without anyone knowing."

Feigning ignorance, Chuck propped an ankle on his knee. "Headmaster, exactly what are you implying? That somehow we've taught our children how to hack into security systems?"

Donner backpedaled swiftly. "No, no, Mr. Montgomery. I am not implying that at all. I'm simply curious how the children could have possibly picked up such skills."

Chuck simply lofted an eyebrow. "Headmaster, I'm sure you are aware that I do run a company that deals primarily with computer software and technology. I really wouldn't put it past the two that they've picked up a few things while spending most of the week either in my office or with my staff."

"Agreed, Mr. Montgomery," Headmaster Donner answered, "but that still doesn't answer exactly how your children procured the exact skills to do such acts."

Chuck smirked wryly. "What do you think we are, Headmaster, spies?"

Donner chuckled weakly at the absurdity of the statement. He indulged the thought for the slightest of moments before eschewing it in favor of more realistic logic. Finally, he sighed. "I just simply do not know what to do with your children, Mr. Montgomery. For all intents and purposes, I am very much aware that they are responsible for this prank, yet they refuse to admit it."

Sarah flicked a glance at her children before smiled sweetly at the headmaster, a smile that didn't fool her family members for a second. The headmaster, however, ate it up entirely.

"Headmaster Donner, would you mind if my husband and I had a moment with our kids?"

Headmaster Donner's jaw sagged slightly for a moment, entranced by the smile that had drawn more dangerous men for much more malignant purposes. Chuck sighed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Much stronger men had bent back willingly to the wiles of Sarah Bartowski, himself included. He held a potent sympathy for Reed Donner.

"Y-yes," Donner cleared his throat at the rather high-pitched squeak that erupted from his lips. "Yes, Mrs. Bartowski, of course."

As soon as the headmaster left the office, Chuck and Sarah bore down on their twins who shrank back slightly at the glare of ominous intent prevalent in their parents' eyes.

"AV project, huh?" Sarah drawled, eyeing her children steadily.

"It really wasn't a lie," Landon defended.

"More like a slightly skewed truth," Maddie added weakly.

"Is there any specific reason you two decided to dish this brand of humiliation on the headmaster or were you two feeling particularly puckish today?" Chuck asked, mirroring his wife's cross-armed position.

The twins shared a glance, conversing silently in a manner their parents often utilized during missions. Chuck and Sarah could practically see the gears turning in their heads. Neither answer would prove predominantly advantageous for them.

"We plead the fifth," the twins finally chorused.

Sarah rolled her eyes. She really should stop leaving her lecture notes out where the twins could see them. "So you're implying that you _did_ do it."

Surprisingly, the twins smiled.

"Of course we did it," Maddie said.

"You just don't need to know the reason why," Landon finished.

"It's kinda irrelevant," Maddie offered.

This time it was Chuck that rolled his eyes. "So, according to your logic, I could randomly punish you two and not tell you the reason because I could deem it irrelevant?"

The twins paused, eyes wide as their rationalization turned back on them. They pouted.

"Aw, nuts," Maddie grumbled.

"Foiled again," Landon agreed, "and this time by the parentals."

"As if you two could really put one over us," Chuck scoffed with raised eyebrows.

"You know what?" Sarah sighed, glancing over at her husband, "I actually really don't _want_ to know. I have a feeling I won't really like it."

Chuck laughed. "You have to admit, it was pretty brilliant."

"Yes, it was," Sarah conceded. "God help us if those two decide to use their powers for evil."

"The end of the world as we would know it," Chuck stage-whispered.

Sarah giggled, shaking her head. "You're such a nerd."

Chuck shrugged unapologetically. "I make a living out of being a nerd. It's fine with me." He nodded towards their eldest children. "So what do we do about these mongrels?"

Sarah cocked her head slightly, ruminating about the point. Just as their children had done previously, she conversed silently with her husband. Seemingly reaching a consensus, they returned their attention to the slightly cringing twelve year-olds.

"Grounded for three weeks," at this, Landon pumped a fist and Maddie growled, "no TV, no cell phones, no going out on weekends," Sarah ticked off. "And you'll be monitored by your Uncle Casey."

The pair groaned. Their Uncle Casey was almost impossible to get anything past. They could coerce him into the little things quite readily, but when it came down to the serious punishments, he was harder to crack than the Fibonacci sequence.

Sarah nodded her satisfaction. "Now, I think the headmaster has been idling enough outside."

Chuck opened the door, allowing the Headmaster entrance to his office. As he took his spot behind his desk, Sarah crossed her arms.

"Well, Headmaster, what is their punishment?"

Donner's mouth flapped open with surprise before composing himself quickly. "Punishment? Mrs. Bartowski, forgive me, but I don't believe they've confessed."

He glanced towards, and found the disposition in the room had drastically changed from the last time he was present. Madeline and Landon were, rather begrudgingly resigned to their current predicament, postures slightly slumped and eyes decidedly downcast.

"They confessed," Sarah asserted firmly

"B-but how?" Donner had a hard time comprehending that a mere college professor had weaseled the biggest conspiracy out of what seemed to be the fortitude of secret keepers. "When I questioned them, there were evasive and vague, giving me nothing that would possibly indicate they had anything to do with this prank."

This time Chuck answered, a wry smile on his face. "Headmaster Donner, while you might be the utmost authority within the boundaries of this institution, rest assured that my wife is the supreme authority where our children are concerned. We know our kids better than they know themselves, and believe me when I say we can wrangle _anything_ out of them with the right…shall we say, _incentive_."

Headmaster Donner's eyes performed a rather amusing dance from one Bartowski twin to the other, thoroughly irked. With a decidedly disgruntled 'humph!' he relented, waving his hand dismissively.

"Two weeks detention for the both of them, and a public apology over the morning announcements." Donner flicked a gaze to the twins. "They will also not be allowed to participate in any of their after school activities one of those two weeks."

Chuck and Sarah nodded simultaneously. "That's acceptable."

Headmaster Donner returned the nod. "Thank you again for your time, Mr. Montgomery, Mrs. Bartowski. I sincerely hope this is the last time I see you in this office."

Maddie and Landon were silent as they exited the headmaster's office ahead of their parents. Stopping in the hallway, they faced their parents.

"Seriously, you two," Sarah admonished, "we're proud of you for embracing your talents, but you do run the risk of exposing your father and me. You have to be more careful with how you go about things."

The twins hung their heads, each mumbling an apology. Chuck grinned.

"Aw, honey, don't be so sore at them." His expression turned downright impish.

"After all, 'cause if you liked it then you should've put a ring on it…'"

Sarah laughed, continuing with the verse. "'Don't be mad cause you see that he want it…'"

The twins blanched, identical horrified looks on their faces as their parents broke out in unison. "Whoa-oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! Whoa-oh, oh!"

Maddie covered her eyes with her hands. "Mom!"

Landon physically turned away from his parents. "Dad!"

"You guys suck…" came the agonized mumble.

_And cut! Sigh…who doesn't love a good prank? I hope this all flowed right. I have my doubts…Anyway, this time, I swear next up is a Landon story. I've actually changed it so that it's Landon dealing with his first heartbreak. After that will be the return of Mr. Jack Burton, followed by Ellie's introduction into the second life of her brother, and after that…a special guest arrives that gets a well-deserved taste of reality. Stay tuned!_

_Roxy_


	11. Interlude: Chuck vs the Suburbs, Take 2

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

**Rating:** _T_

**Timeline:** _A few months before Chapter 1, Chuck vs. Mobility. The twins are still infants. References to_ 2.14, Chuck vs. the Suburbs, 2.15, Chuck vs. the Beefcake _and_ 2.16 Chuck vs. the Lethal Weapon.

**Summary:** _He had been here before in a different time, during a different point of his life. But when he finds himself there again, it's different. He's different._

_Sorry for the delay! I've been in and out of Fargo for the last month or so and, as I'm certain many of you have heard, we're experiencing rather extreme bouts of Mother Nature. She must be PMS'ing. Therefore, I've been doing my civic duty and helping make sure Fargo doesn't become a modern day Atlantis._

_So, on a more pressing note…Who needs fluff? I know I do. Between the increasingly infuriating Cole Barker arc added to the fact that Landon is being entirely stubborn and not letting me write anything about him, I decided to give Chuck and Sarah a chapter of a entirely uncomplicated relationship full of freely professed devotion and love since the show seems wholly adamant against that particular development (not that I _completely_ blame them, but frustrating nonetheless). So I got to absently writing when I started to re-watch a few past episodes and the idea hit me when I paralleled the Parenthood universe to the Meadow Branch universe Chuck finds himself in during Chuck vs. the Suburbs. So, I decided to write an introspective sort of piece of Chuck doing the same thing. And here you are. It's not really a chapter, it's a bit too short to be one (although looking at it again, that doesn't really seem to be the case) and kinda lacks in any real plotline, so I'm calling this the first of a few interludes in the Parenthood universe._

_Warning. This is shamelessly and undeniably fluffy._

_Enjoy! _

**Interlude**

_Chuck vs. the Castle in the Sky_

a.k.a.

_Chuck vs. the Suburbs, Take 2_

It was a beautiful day in the City of Angels. Burbank, to be exact. Mother Nature was being rather generous as not one cloud dotted the clear robin's egg blue sky as it hovered above and the warm California sunshine pierced the atmosphere from the heavens, baking the pavement and the people in its way.

Down below, on Earth, a black Range Rover glided down the street, its tires not making a sound as it propelled its driver towards its destination before turning from the bustling city into a more residential neighborhood. The engine purred evenly as it climbed the winding road up to the sprawling Mediterranean house on the hill. A leisurely lap around the circular driveway brought the SUV to its relegated spot behind the Porsche already parked at the end, and a very familiar head poked out of the opening door.

Charles Irving Bartowski, better known to the world as Charles Montgomery, unfolded himself from the interior of the Rover, releasing his tall frame to the mid-afternoon sun. He folded his hands atop his head and simply reveled in the ambiance of his setting, letting the rays warm his face. He took in the magnificent two-story mansion he had taken pains to choose as per the CIA's rather lengthy conditions and prerequisites. Took in the simple beauty of where he was and this rather appealing situation he found himself in. He felt as though he had been there before. Oh, wait. He kind of had.

There was a similar feeling that tickled his senses, a sense of déjà vu, and his mind drifted back to a time not too long ago that he stood in front of a house in a cul-de-sac out in the suburbs, exiting from a boring hatchback, dressed in one of his father's old shirts, and waving to neighbors that could be easily mistaken for the Stepfords incarnate. Yes, it was similar, but the significant differences were present as well. Back during the Meadow Branch mission, everything was fabricated from the name on the mailbox to the details of their cover lives. The house was purchased on CIA coin. The furniture was carefully chosen to exude an unassuming, mild-mannered vibe, the perfect cover for their mission. The photographs that hung within the residence were expertly tailored by some government flunky and held no sentimental value or bearing. Even the dog, referred to as such, remained nameless. They even dressed the part, playing upper middle-class, suburban business man and his housewife to perfection. It was all mechanisms of a complex ruse meant to fool their counterparts. It was all fake.

But times were different. He was different. There were days where he had taken a step back and simply looked at his life. He liked what he saw. And he was terrified that one day he would wake up in his bed at Ellie's apartment, surrounded by _Tron_ posters and Captain Awesome's perpetually shirtless physique and realize this was all a dream. But, he admitted, what a dream it was. And if this really was a dream, he prayed that he would never wake up again.

Chuck looked down at himself, one of the more significant changes evident in his appearance. The plain gold band the CIA had provided was replaced by a flat platinum ring that encircled the appropriate finger. He wasn't clothed in a pair of pressed khakis, a plaid shirt Ellie had deemed a "Dad Shirt" beneath a sweater vest. Instead, a pair of charcoal slacks and a black pinstriped button-up covered his tall frame. His eyes flicked up briefly to where his hair rested atop his head, remembering fondly how Sarah had objected so strongly to his intent to cut the long-trademarked curls only to order that he never change his hairstyle again once she had seen the spikes that now extended skyward.

He looked down at the ring on his finger, twirling it fondly around the digit. It was a symbol, tangible evidence that this life wasn't some CIA construct. He had said the vows to a minister. The ceremony could be recollected if he wished. This was his life. It wasn't some cover fed from some government dossier. This was his reality. Chuck smiled, eyes raking over the sprawling compound that had become his place of residence as he absently pointed his key remote back at the truck, locking the vehicle with a push of his thumb. Yeah, he really liked this life.

Chuck climbed the steps up to the porch and straight to the front door. Upon opening the entryway, a pair of barks sounded, and he leaped back in order to avoid being bowled over. Claws scrabbling against the tile of the foyer, two dogs scampered through his legs and out the door, loping merrily through the yard. The chocolate Labrador, Boston, buried his nose in the rose patch, pawing anxiously at the roots while the Border Terrier, Bronx, promptly began digging a hole. Chuck shrugged, watching them. Oh well, Casey was the green thumb of the family and would soon be working his magic on their new yard. The hulking NSA agent had evolved from bonsai trees to cacti after the debacle with his former sensei. Never let it be said that John Casey was an easy man to figure out.

Chuck entered through the foyer, dropping his keys in the bowl by the door. He stood in the entryway, shoes atop the gleaming wood of the floor, appreciating the interior view. Whistling to himself, he trumped down the pair of steps that led to the living room. It had been a battle, but eventually they had agreed on the color scheme and layout of the room. The walls were a tasteful burnt orange, and the furniture a dark mahogany. Chuck recalled the standoff. He couldn't fathom how an orange room would in any way, shape, or form be remotely appealing, but looking at the finished product, he saw Sarah's point. It gave the room a warmth nicely contrasted with the dark motif of the furniture. It was a room Chuck could be proud of…especially when it came to the rather large LCD television that sat over the mantle. His eyes raked over the room, noting the small little details that gave the room a personal, intimate touch. And with a small smile, Chuck's eyes sought out the piece of tangible evidence that indicated his presence in this house was warranted and not some weird sadistic dream.

There, in its place of honor over a decorative cabinet housing various sentimental trinkets they accumulated over the years was his and Sarah's wedding portrait. Much like its Meadow Branch counterpart, the painting was a work of art, a combination of oils and color that blended to showcase the beauty of the two people displayed. Unlike its Meadow Branch counterpart, however, it wasn't a dignified, almost somber piece. The joy of the moment simply radiated from the faces frozen for eternity.

Chuck looked at his oil-based foil. A happy content smile manifested itself in his features, his head leaning against Sarah's. Her hand braced itself on his lapel, grasped in his fingers held against his breast. He thought he looked rather dapper in the white bowtie poking from beneath the wing collar and peeking out from the matching vest under his tuxedo jacket. He remembered fondly how staunchly Sarah had pushed for him to wear a bowtie when he had planned on wearing a simple white tie. When asked why, she had tugged on the lapels of his jacket and shrugged, saying there was just something about him when he wore one. And, of course, he had caved. As if he could refuse her…

Chuck smiled as he remembered that day, a day that held so much weight in this new life he had created. For so long, he had labored to make Sarah a permanent fixture in his life, and that infamous day represented the culmination of that battle. Finally, she was part of their family.

His head rotated as he took in the small shrine to the Bartowski family, extended and honorary, that surrounded the portrait and littered the surface of the cabinet. Moments of every aspect of their lives shone through in the many photographs.

_Chuck and Sarah experiencing their first dance as husband and wife on their wedding day, the love clear in their eyes._

_Chuck and Sarah standing before the building that would become the headquarters of the newly formed Traversal Industries._

_Awesome holding Chuck in a headlock as the two boys tussled in the parking lot of the annual Stanford/UCLA game (and Chuck being woefully outnumbered as the lone Cardinal fan)._

_Sarah and Ellie sunning on the beach during the family vacation to Catalina Island._

Chuck stopped before the final photo in the procession. It was his personal favorite, a candid moment taken during their honeymoon in Fiji. The photo wasn't much, just a close up of his face down to his upper torso as he leaned back on his elbows against the hood of their rented Mustang convertible, the shadows playing across the upper right corner of his face and his eyes shielded behind a pair of sunglasses. Watching the sun descend into the horizon over one of the many beaches, Sarah had called his name, and as he turned to face her, she snapped a picture. It wasn't the setting or the artistry of the photo that caught his appeal, but the expression on his face.

Complete and utter contentment.

He looked as though he had not a care in the world, a calm, serene smile playing on his lips. This was during a time without the rigors of the Intersect plaguing them. Where there was only Chuck and Sarah.

Placing the photo back in its spot, Chuck rotated slightly and climbed the steps to the kitchen where he was quite certain a goddess was standing at the center island, working furiously on their dinner. Leaning against the doorway, Chuck gazed over at his wife as she worked and simply appreciated her. Her golden hair tumbled down her shoulders in gentle, flowing waves, a few tendrils making its way into her eyesight as she ducked her head to meticulously slice the green peppers at her fingertips. Once again, Chuck's mind reverted back to a similar time she had done the same thing, only this time in a silky pink nightie. To be honest, he had never warmed up to the plaid-print dress and boring sweater she had donned to play the part of suburban housewife. It was boring, ordinary, and Sarah Walker was hardly that. She was extraordinary, and that cover did nothing to display that. They had dismissed her as a simple, unassuming housewife when she could have easily kicked the ass of every single one of those Fulcrum operatives. It really was a shame she couldn't have a crack at any of them.

Chuck smiled as her delicate fingers expertly manipulated the knife in her grasp. Even cutting vegetables, she radiated the stunning but simple beauty he had come to associate with her. It was a beauty that shone through no matter the situation, and no matter what she was wearing. In a fancy evening gown and heels, she held a sophisticated, elegant brilliance. But in the dark jeans, lacy tank top, and one of his slimmer cardigans that fell a bit big on her slender frame, she held an aura of leisure casual was relaxed, effortless. This sight was more appealing than any fancy get-up she could don. Maybe it was the domestic ambiance around her, maybe it was the glittering diamond and its matching band sparkling from her left hand – a set of rings he had given her – maybe it was the bunny slippers complete with floppy ears, but Chuck couldn't tear his eyes away from her, even after all these years. She still had the effect on him she did from the first moment she had waltzed into the Buy More, and briefly waxing poetic, he prayed to whatever higher power was up there that the feeling wouldn't ever fade away.

As if he hadn't done enough during the course of the day, Chuck allowed himself a bit more introspection. He had the rings, he had the house, he had the job, but there was something that he hadn't thought of during that Meadow Branch mission. Children. And laying just a bit to the side of Sarah's immediate eyesight in a playpen were two very real and very corporeal pieces of evidence that this life was very different from the CIA construct that was that mission. He knew that seeing them would eradicate any notions of falsehood in this life.

The twins.

Madeline Eleanor and Landon Charles Bartowski.

Madeline with his luscious curls and Sarah's bold blue eyes.

Landon with dark chocolate hair boasting the straightness of Sarah's and his soulful Bartowski browns.

The perfect products of Sarah Walker and Chuck Bartowski, a blending of genetics that seemed so flawless, so beautiful that it was almost unreal. Of course, he was biased, but any proud parent would be. But he reserved the right to be.

This was his life. This was his reality. This was _awesome_.

"Hey, honey."

Chuck shook himself from his reverie as Sarah's voice cut into his unconscious thoughts. With a grin, he abandoned his place from his doorway, sidling up behind his wife. Slinging an arm around her waist, he snagged a carrot with his free hand, just barely avoiding her admonishing swat.

"Hey, babe."

Sarah smiled, turning into his touch as he ghosted a kiss to her temple to accompany his greeting. Shifting slightly, she craned her neck upward, seeking his lips in a more proper salutation. Pulling away slightly, she allowed her nose to skate along his cheekbone. "How was work?"

Chuck grinned, popping the pilfered vegetable in his mouth. "I am living out my dream job," he responded grandly with a wink, "and we just closed the Fowler and Goren deal. How do you think it was?"

Sarah only shook her head, an indulgent twinkle to her eyes. "No ridiculous Morgan pitches?"

Chuck laughed. "Not today. I forwarded an advanced copy of the latest Call of Duty to him, so that should keep him occupied until he needs my help strategizing, which gives me about," Chuck extended an arm, glancing down at the face of his watch, "a day."

Sarah pouted, turning fully to face him, her arms winding around his neck. "Aw, but I've missed you."

Chuck quirked an eyebrow. "We had lunch together yesterday," he reminded her.

One hand slid down his chest, covertly popping a few buttons along the way. "And how long has it been since we've had some _alone_ time?"

A wicked expression flitting across her features, she leaned in, lips attaching themselves to a certain spot just behind his ear. And…oh, man. That was a sucking sensation.

Chuck's eyelids fluttered slightly. "Okay, maybe two days."

Sarah only grew more determined, adding the teeth into the mix. Chuck groaned, his hands grasping the borrowed sweater. Crud, there was the nibble. He couldn't resist the nibble.

"Three," he gasped, "definitely three."

He could feel Sarah smirk against his skin and huffed out a growl. Hooking one hand beneath her thighs, the other splayed against her lower back, Chuck boosted her up onto the counter. Giggling as he immediately sought out her lips, Sarah teasingly avoided his kiss, ducking her head instead to sample the skin bared by her nimble fingers. Chuck let out a petulant whine. Taking pity on him, Sarah returned to his lips, her tongue tangling with his in the long-familiar battle.

It never failed to amaze him how easy he could get lost in Sarah. He remembered how the threat of his imminent death had vanished the moment she sealed her mouth over his. He remembered his triumph towards Roan Montgomery fading as she responded to his rather aggressive advance. Everything seemed to take a backseat when they connected. This was no different. Slipping his cardigan off her shoulders, he relished in his right and his privilege to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. No more frantic spontaneity under coercion, no more excuses of "cover maintenance" or purposes "for show." This was because he could.

He leaned forward as Sarah pulled him in by opened lapels, and vaguely through his foggy mind, he heard her stifled mumbles around his lips.

"Wait, wait…"

Chuck drew in much needed oxygen, eyes wild and almost ebony with passion as she yanked herself away. "Seriously?"

Sarah took the time to compose herself, nodding absently. "I have a surprise for you."

That caught Chuck's attention as both eyebrows rocketed skyward. "Please say you're breaking out one of your old uniforms and fulfilling one of my long-standing fantasies involving food and you asking me how you can serve?"

"Excuse me?" Sarah recoiled slightly, taken aback at the statement. A furrow appeared in her brow as she cocked her head slightly, gazing into his hopeful, earnest eyes, looking for any sign of mockery. Nope. None.

Oh, goodness. He was serious.

Chuck shook his head. "Trust me, I've had fantasies of you in countless different situations, stalking towards me, wind blowing through your hair, that look you get in your eyes when you're set and determined. There may have been a few cartwheels and one or so cat crawls thrown in…"

Sarah blinked, vaguely wondering why she was surprised. "That's…descriptive."

Chuck shrugged, completely unabashed. "What like you haven't had any thoughts of me in my Nerd Herd uniform?"

Sarah grinned, cocking her head. She _had_ liked the way the short-sleeved button-down had molded to his chest. "Hmmm…I think I'll plead the fifth."

Chuck only returned the smile, choosing wisely not to comment. "So what's this surprise?" His head craned backwards as the doorbell sounded through the foyer. His eyebrows danced skyward. "I guess I'll get it."

"Chuck?"

Sarah's shout gave him pause, and he turned around. "Hmmm?"

Sarah waved a hand at his upper torso. "You might want to fix yourself before you answer the door."

Chuck glanced down at himself and found with increasing amusement that more than half of the buttons of his shirt had become mysteriously undone. "I don't suppose you have anything to do with this."

Sarah's face adopted an innocent look as she swung her legs from the counter. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh," Chuck blithely replied. "Sure you don't." He jogged the short distance to the door, opening it with a flourish. He blinked at the familiar face behind the door.

"Ellie?"

"Hey, Chuck." Ellie slipped past her brother, greeting her sister-in-law with a kiss to the cheek as Sarah hopped down from the counter to join their family in the foyer.

"Bartowskis!" Devon's hearty baritone boomed from the doorway as the good Captain Awesome emerged, head swiveling to take in the Bartowski homestead. "Love what you guys have done with the place." He held up a hand for a high five that Chuck absently obliged. "Awesome."

"Devon." Chuck's eyes swiveled from Ellie to Awesome, understandably confused. "Not that I'm unhappy to see you two or anything, but what are you doing here?"

"Interference, bro," Devon pronounced as he hefted Maddie into his arms, the baby bag already at his shoulder. "We hear that the mojo's been running low so at the bequest of your fair and lovely wife…"

Ellie stepped in before the good Captain's entendre became mildly crass, Landon at her hip. "We're taking the kids."

"Surprise," Sarah murmured, slipping her arms around Chuck's waist. "We haven't had any time together for months and Ellie and Devon certainly owe us a few times over."

"Okay, I seriously love you."

"Hmmm," Sarah hummed her agreement with a wicked glint to her gaze, "care to show me just how much?"

"I'm thinking uniforms," Chuck quickly offered. "Personal preference argues the Wienerlicious one first. That skirt always did drive me crazy." Chuck considered his point. "Although, the Orange Orange tank top really brought out your –"

Chuck recoiled back as Sarah's open palm smacked his shoulder. "Ow! What? _Eyes_! I was gonna say 'eyes!'"

"Sure you were, sweetie," Sarah retorted. "You're gonna have to work for that fantasy, bucko."

Chuck smirked. "You forget, Walker, I have very potent persuasive methods when it comes to you." He leaned in, intent on proving his point when a slight giggle caught his attention, and he rotated to find a red-faced Ellie, silenced by Awesome's hand over her mouth.

"Don't mind us! Continue, continue!"

Chuck rolled his eyes, reluctantly extracting himself from Sarah to begin shooing his sister and brother-in-law out the door. "I'll see you guys on Monday for dinner."

Ellie only beamed, accepting a hug from Sarah as a goodbye, watching as the proud parents placed kisses upon their children. "Have fun…"

"Use the noggin, Chuckster," Devon added, pointing an index finger with a wink. "Don't be a fool, bro, wrap the tool. It's a bit early to add to the brood."

"Thank you, Devon," Chuck deadpanned. "Always useful words of wisdom from you. Always."

Devon grinned that patented Captain Awesome beaming flash of white teeth as he backed out the door. "Stay awesome, dude."

Chuck merely shook his head as the door closed, their kids safely with their aunt and uncle. He turned back to Sarah, moving with her to the living room and snatching her up in his grasp.

"Devious, Agent Walker, finagling some alone time for us." He ducked his head down, tongue tracing the slope of her neck. "It's hot."

"Chuck…" Sarah struggled for breath and coherent thought, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the fabric of his shirt. "Dinner."

"Take out," Chuck growled back. "You're insane if you think I'm not taking advantage of every moment we have right now."

"Oh, honey, how you romance me," Sarah quipped. "This kinda defeats the purpose, you know."

"Take out," Chuck repeated. "Three weeks of pent-up frustration, here."

Sarah opened her mouth to protest again, failing to remember her exact reason for doing so as all coherent thought translated to a breathy exhale as Chuck's lips latched onto the slope of her shoulder. Conceding a rare defeat, she didn't respond, only pushed Chuck back to the living room rug. Caught up in practically ripping his shirt from his chest, Sarah didn't catch her husband's triumphant fist pump.

- - -

Hours later, with Chinese food takeout cartons littering the floor around them and Chuck only in his boxers and Sarah in his pinstripe shirt, the Bartowskis lay amidst a makeshift bed of blankets and throw pillows from the couch. The television blared in the background, displaying a movie neither really paid attention to. Chuck hummed in content satisfaction, drawing his wife, who had draped herself haphazardly over his body, deeper into the circle of his arms.

Sarah gazed up into Chuck's open and honest face, noting he looked a bit too pensive after what had just transpired. "What are you thinking?"

"That the Kung Pao chicken needed a bit more pepper," Chuck quipped lazily.

"I suppose if that's on your mind, life's going pretty well," Sarah joked.

"I can afford a bit of irrelevancy to my thoughts every once in awhile," Chuck defended. "After all, I'm either consumed with saving the world or supplying it with the latest technology."

"Was that really what you were thinking?"

"No," Chuck laughed. "A little bit of the spy stuff and a bit of the Traversal stuff but mostly that this," he gestured ambiguously to their surroundings, "is everything I dreamed of and so much more. This is everything I've ever wanted."

"This is everything you deserved," Sarah corrected. "But, if I remember correctly, you dreamed of a normal life."

"I dreamed of a life with the woman I loved," Chuck amended. "And the person I envisioned was you. It just so happened I had to sacrifice normal to have you." Chuck leaned in, caressing her lips softly. "Easy deal."

"Charmer," Sarah accused softly.

"You wanted romance," Chuck responded. He shrugged, one hand absently running up and down Sarah's back. "I was driving home from work, and, I don't know, I guess I kinda got a sense of déjà vu. I got out of the car and looked at the house and…"

Sarah immediately caught on to his line of thinking. "You were brought back to the Meadow Branch mission."

"Yeah," Chuck answered. "Then I got to comparing the two."

"Before you realized that this is real," Sarah finished.

Chuck nodded. "I keep thinking that this is all a dream and I _really_ don't want to wake up," he confessed.

"Hmmm," Sarah hummed her agreement, "Call me Rip Van Winkle then, too."

They lapsed into comfortable silence, relishing in each other's presence before Sarah's voice interrupted the quiet again. "Chuck…"

"Yeah?"

Sarah sighed happily, snuggling even deeper into his embrace. "Tell me something true."

Chuck glanced down at her peaceful face. "Where's this coming from?"

"We're watching a romantic comedy," Sarah craned her head upward, peering absently at the screen, "_Notting Hill_, I believe." She shrugged. "I'm feeling it right now. Romance me, Bartowski."

Chuck quirked an eyebrow, gathering his thoughts. "Okay…Truly? You changed my world, Sarah Walker. You took everything I thought was fact and turned it upside down. You made me better, and despite what we had to suffer through, everything was worth it because in the end, you've got my ring, you've given me my children, and you're sharing this life with me." He peered down at his wife expectantly. "How was that?"

"Well done, sir," Sarah approved. "Although, if we were watching _Jerry Maguire_ or something, you might've had to break out the 'You complete me,' but I like that truth."

"Because it wasn't stolen from a movie?" Chuck ventured.

"It very well could've been," Sarah laughed. "That was a definite archetype for something out of some sappy blockbuster." She shook her head. "Naw, I liked it because it was no one could have said it better than a Chuck Bartowski original from the heart." Her voice got softer as her eyelids became heavier.

"And I think only a Chuck Bartowski original would have any effect on me."

Chuck smiled. "Well I guess only Sarah Walker brings it out of me."

"Glad to know I'm such a source of inspiration," Sarah mumbled, the warmth of his body affecting her will to stay conscious for just a bit longer. Chuck continued, caught up in his revelations of the day and the ambiance of the romantic movie playing in the background, oblivious to his wife's current battle with slumber.

"You've been my source of inspiration for more than just romantic ramblings," Chuck responded. "In your own unorthodox, quirky way, you brought me to a place that's so much better than where I was and where I had hoped to be. I love you, you know? I always have, Not just for the inspiration thing, but for everything. And it's amazing to know that this – this thing we have – is for forever."

A soft snuffle was his only answer, and he looked down at Sarah to find her fast asleep and burrowed in his chest. Chuckling to himself, he returned his attention to the movie just in time to hear Anna Scott's infamous words.

"_**The fame thing isn't really real, you know. Don't forget, I'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her…" **_

Chuck Bartowski turned off the television and leaned back. There was a truth if he ever heard one. It had taken him awhile to get it, but in the end he had. All the avoidance tactics – his breakup speeches, her perceived indifference, Lou Palone, Jill Roberts, Cole Barker - were just mechanisms to stifle what really lay beneath. In the end, Sarah Walker was a girl (a badass, butt-kicking, CIA assassin girl) who stood in front of a boy (most of the time in the circumstance of him cowering behind her), asking him to love her (through stolen glances, pilfered kisses, and gazes he had no idea how to decipher). And Chuck Bartowski was the William Thacker that gave her back a bit of the humanity lost in the shuffle of the world she had originally resigned herself to (albeit through a wacky set of events that dumped intelligence secrets in his head, culminating in a reluctant pawn of the government becoming a spy). Anna and William found their happily ever after. Chuck and Sarah would too.

Satisfied with his analysis, Chuck relaxed into the pillows, his eyes falling shut. Even as he drifted off into a state of peaceful slumber, his senses stayed as alive as ever. He felt the flat platinum band encircling his left ring finger and the porcelain skin beneath the pads of his fingertips. He felt the lofty length of womanly softness nestled at his side and the long legs tangled with his. Golden hair tickled his nose and the comforting weight of a hand was braced on his breast, the smooth metal of the engagement ring contrasting with the diamonds in the wedding band.

When he would wake, he would hop into his car and drive off to his company, his wife already gone for her morning session. He would endure the latest round of ridiculous Morgan pitches and start looking for the next client to add to Traversal's growing catalogue. He would take a lunch break at around noon, meeting his wife at the UCLA campus. Maybe, through some random, weird occurrence, the Intersect would flash, sending Team Chuck out on the field. Later, he would pick up his kids from their Aunt Ellie and Uncle Awesome's before it was back to the house for some dinner and family time with the kids. Maybe they would start crawling soon. That would be cool.

For the longest time, the life he now lived had been Chuck's castle in the sky that he didn't seem to have the means to reach. But now, this was more than a deluded fantasy, more than something that festered idly for years in the back of his mind. It had become his reality. _She_ had become his reality. The Meadow Branch mission had given him a taste of what domestic life could be with Sarah. And once he had gotten it in his head, it had become an idle obsession, lingering in the back of his mind until he could allow it to come to fruition. The first time Chuck had taken on the suburbs, he had come out with more confusion than he could wrap his head around. This time…well, this time had no ambiguity without it.

Welcome to reality, Charles Bartowski. Welcome to the rest of your life.

_And cut! I hope you all liked this little interlude. I really liked Chuck vs. the Suburbs and thought that the Parenthood universe really did parallel the situation Chuck finds himself in during that mission. Hopefully, one day, we'll get a Chuck and Sarah in that stage of their relationship. Until then, I, as well as the rest of my fellow fanfic writers, am here to oblige the part of us all that wishes to see that relationship come to fruition._

_So moving on, it's becoming increasingly evident that Landon doesn't want me to tell you guys one of his stories yet, so I'm forced to respect his wishes and hopefully cajole him into divulging something (anything, really). Until then, I do have a few storylines planned. One is, as I mentioned before, the return of Jack Burton. The other is Ellie's rather rude awakening to the extracurricular activities of her brother. And the last is the return of either Cole Barker or Bryce Larkin. I haven't decided yet. But, the Cole Barker one will be a rather humorous piece where Cole and Chuck face off to see who can seduce the ladies more efficiently. I admit found myself kinda irked at the whole "Looks like Cole Barker lost the girl to Chuck Bartowski" line for reasons I will explain in that chapter when I post it. That chapter, of course, will also have some humorous jealousy coming from Sarah for obvious reasons. So stay tuned._

_Until next time,_

_Roxy_

_Oh, and I forgot to mention this originally, but the UC system actually doesn't offer a Criminal Justice program. Currently, I have Sarah employed as a professor in the Criminal Justice department, so we'll call it taking a few liberties, yeah?_


	12. Chuck vs the Full Disclosure

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing._

**Rating:** _T+, borderline M for violence and swearing._

**Timeline: **_Two weeks before Chuck and Sarah are married. References to the Pilot, 1.08 Chuck vs. the Truth and 2.11 Chuck vs. the Santa Claus, 2.12, Chuck vs. the Third Dimension, 2.18 Chuck vs. the Broken Heart._

**Summary:** _Chuck had always labored to keep Spy World and Chuck World separate, but now, he must merge the two to save the one person that's always been there through it all._

**Alternate Characters:**

_Jeremiah Bingham – leader of the people who kidnapped Ellie. Distant cousin to Tyler Bingham._

_Irving Bartowski – Chuck's grandfather born c. 1930, veteran of the Korean and Vietnam Wars._

*NOTE: All characters mentioned are fabricated for the entertainment purposes of this fiction. Any is relation to actual living persons is purely coincidental.

_From the fluff to the action and angst. Ever since the beginning of the Parenthood universe, I've wanted to do something that involves Ellie's introduction to the second of Chuck's two lives. I've always seen it played something like this. I'm not too sure about police procedurals so this might be slightly inaccurate, but I hope it's believable enough._

**Chapter 10**

_Chuck vs. the Disclosure _

Ellie Woodcomb was a very perceptive person. She supposed she had to be concerning her chosen profession, but there was no subject more susceptible to her perceptive nature than her younger brother, Chuck. She had known her brother all of his life, was familiar with his mannerisms, could predict certain reactions, and had catalogued every little quirk and eccentricity that made up her baby brother. She had seen him grow, coached him through puberty, and watched him bloom from boy to man. It had been just the two of them for so long that they had learned to rely on each other. His triumphs were her triumphs; when he hurt, she took it personally. It had killed her those five years after Stanford, to see her vibrant, animated brother so close to his dream life of affluence and brilliance rescind back to that husk of a man. So to see how he had changed, a change that had been five years in the making was amazing.

She looked over at the man in question, fiddling with the grill as he chatted with Devon. The knowledge she had of her brother only made her more aware of the man he had become, a man so different from even five years prior. He had finally broken ties from that dead-end job at the Buy More to own his own company and with that change in occupation also came a change in appearance. His once wild and untamed curls were cut and styled, shortened into a stylish wave. He had updated his wardrobe to fit his more professional image, workday suits, dress shirts, and ties mixing in with the slacks and sweaters. Even his casual wardrobe had undergone a facelift with the occasional gamer shirt mixing in with items like his current ensemble of a thin, white, V-neck, graphic-print shirt and dark designer jeans. A pair of stylish sunglasses hung from the collar and a trendy watch accessorized his outfit. Ellie glanced down at his shoes and sighed. But try as she might, she couldn't get him to retire the Chuck Taylors that occasionally made their way into the rotation. But, as he had once entreated to her, "Baby steps, sis. Baby steps." It was better than nothing.

"Okay! Meat's ready!"

Ellie's stare diverted to the woman she believed was the source of the change in her younger brother as she descended gracefully down the steps of the patio, arms filled with the marinated ribs, steaks, and the usual armada of hamburgers and hot dogs for the grill. She watched with undisguised delight as Chuck's eyes lit up at the sight of the woman who would become his wife in a few short weeks.

"Take long enough, babe?" he chided, pulling playfully at the low ponytail tossed casually over her shoulder beneath a black headband.

Sarah slapped his hand away and merely quirked an eyebrow. "The marinate time is very precise. You wouldn't want to toy with perfection, do you?"

"Sarah's right, bro," Devon admonished, bearing the solemn seriousness of a well-informed expert. "Meat is like a beautiful flower bud, man. You must nurture and nourish until it is time for it to bloom."

Chuck cocked an eyebrow. "Poetic, Devon. No one could have put it like you." He grinned, lofting his hands in surrender. "I stand corrected."

Sarah laughed, physically rotating him around and pushing him back towards the house. "Just get back in there and finish making that famous Chuck Bartowski seven-layer dip. The beans are ready."

Chuck rolled his eyes, obliging to his fiancée's demand with a sardonic, "Yes, dear."

Sarah took pity on her slightly indentured man, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling her back to him, pressing a long kiss to his lips as a trivial consolation. As she drew back, she caught the teasing glint in his dark eyes.

"Push, pull, push, pull," Chuck cajoled humorously. "You just can't make up your mind."

Sarah grinned, swatting him lightly on the shoulder. "Just shut up and make me my food."

Chuck stumbled slightly as he made his way back into the house, shooting her a look over his shoulder. "And so demanding, too."

Ellie sidling up to Sarah, gently bumping her shoulder with a grin. "You have him so well trained."

Sarah laughed, shaking her head. Ellie's eyes jumped to a different point of their new house before she turned to her husband.

"Devon, could you fix the lights over the pool? They look like they have a chance of falling."

"Aw, but…" Awesome made a gesture back towards the meat where it was simmering, just waiting for the fires of the grill to tease the cuts into char-broiled deliciousness.

Ellie only shot her husband a look. Awesome pouted, before huffing an audible sigh. "You got it, babe." He trumped back towards the garage for the ladder, muttering under his breath. "So not awesome."

Sarah's laughter escalated as she nudged her future sister-in-law's shoulder in return. "Right back at ya, sis."

- - -

The backyard was teeming with people to help celebrate the new home of the Woodcombs. Doctors from the hospital mingled with family friends in the sprawling backyard over the pool as the combined forces of Woodcombs, a Bartowski, and a Walker played dutiful hosts and hostesses. Greeting some friends from Devon's gym, Ellie craned her head towards the patio as her brother unwittingly made his entrance from the house, drawing quite a few stares. His handsome face was relaxed into an easy smile, and he simply radiated ease. Of course, the fact that he had just appeared on the cover of _GQ_ didn't hurt either. There was just something about him that had seemingly evolved over the course of the last five years. He had always had such a warmth and natural allure, become more confident, more sure of himself that seemed to magnify those traits. Even the way he carried himself appeared to have changed. There was a time where, even with his tall frame, he seemed to disappear in a crowd, slinking to the rear as his slumped shoulders and shuffling steps taking him amidst the wave of people. Now, he walked back straight, shoulders back, and with an even, commanding stride that, if she could describe it, seemed almost militant. When he moved, people parted to give him a path.

She looked at her brother, his stature and strapping features even more matured with his neater, more professional – but still curly – hair and the slight stubble adorning his chin and cheeks, and smiled to herself. It was Bartowski Law Number One. Where Bartowski women were born beautiful and only grew to be even more so, Bartowski men were always late bloomers. Seeing her brother as he effortlessly made his way around, truly made her grin. He had always had great charisma but never the confidence to truly unleash it. Now, with the birth of Traversal Industries – and its annual profit – Chuck had all the confidence he needed. She didn't know if she said it enough, but she was proud of him. It had taken him awhile but he had bloomed into the man she knew he could be.

- - -

Ellie made her rounds through the guests, stopping to talk with a few of her fellow doctors and nurses. A ways away, she could see her brother chatting with Devon, exchanging stories with her husband's colleagues from cardiothoracic. He looked at ease with his fellow men, matching wits and intelligence with the most premier of intellectuals, a bit more of a challenge than offered by Devon's UCLA fraternity brothers that had sometimes popped by the apartment.

"Ellie, is that Chuck?"

Ellie turned to Margot Dolan, a pediatrician, and one of the bridesmaids at her wedding. She smiled, knowing that her peers were sure to notice the changes as well. "Yes, that's him."

"Wow," Margot whistled through her teeth, eying him up and down appreciatively. "He sure has…filled out."

Ellie tilted her head. She had noticed that Chuck's physique had seemed a bit broader over the last few years, but she feigned ignorance, shrugging her confusion. "Has he? I don't know."

Margot laughed good-naturedly. "If I wasn't already married to Nathan, I'd be the first to make a play for him. He was always so adorable and looked so great at the wedding, but now? Wow."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "And I really want to hear these things about my brother?"

"Oh, come on, Ellie. Surely you've seen it," Gina Arden, a nurse from Devon's floor, piped up. "I don't know what has gotten into your brother, but he's sure changed from the guy whose birthday party you've had to fill with your friends. He's…" Gina shivered as Chuck scratched the back of his neck, his bicep flexing slightly with the movement, "_hot_. He's not still at the Buy More down in the plaza, is he?"

Ellie shook her head. "No, he has his own software and technology company now, Traversal Industries."

"You mean the company that's just donated ten million dollars to the hospital?" Now Gina's gaze turned downright predatory. "Is he single?"

Ellie didn't answer, only flagged down a certain blonde woman just returning from the getting more potato salad from the fridge. "Sarah!"

Sarah diverted her path making her way to her future sister-in-law. "Hey, Ellie." She surveyed their surroundings with amusement. "Is Chuck somewhere in that mess or has he already made his crafty escape?"

Ellie pointed over her shoulder. "He's with Devon, and I haven't caught him sneaking out. He wouldn't dare."

Sarah laughed. "Don't speak too soon. The prototype for the new Spectrum series arrived in the mail this morning, and you know he's absolutely dying to try it out, especially with what the tech magazines were saying."

Ellie shared her laugh. "I don't know. He doesn't have Morgan here for influence." She shook herself at the slight incredulity of it all that her brother's company had actually designed a computer that was being hailed as the innovative gadget of the century. "But I'm being rude…" Ellie turned to her companions, listening to the conversation in interest. "Ladies, this is my brother's fiancée, Sarah Walker. Sarah, a few of my colleagues. I know you've met Margot, but this is Gina Arden, Kayla Sanchez, Raquel Gaffney, and Josephina DeTorro."

Sarah extended a hand, shaking the offered ones politely. "Nice to meet you all." She could see the assessment in their eyes, sizing her up, deeming her worthy of their company. A few of the stares drew down to the engagement ring at her finger. She felt as though she had been placed under a microscope, everything scrutinized rather than accepted at face value. It was slightly unnerving.

"So, Sarah, what do you do?"

Her cover job slipped from her mouth unconsciously, almost robotically. "I'm a professor at UCLA and working on my doctorate."

There was definite surprise in many eyes as they looked her up and down. Sarah fought the urge to roll her eyes. Yes, she was well aware that the archetype of a college professor did not extend those of her appearance – and truthfully, it was still a cover, but they didn't know that. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and big boobs an intellectual did not normally make. But those reactions also came from the same people who could never fathom how a girl "like her" could end up with a guy like Chuck.

"Really? What do you teach?"

"Criminal Justice," Sarah parroted, the ruse firmly implanted after years of practice.

"Fascinating," one simpered.

Gina Arden had her eyes resolutely fixated on the ring adorning her fourth finger. "And how did you meet Chuck?"

Sarah held her smile, knowing that no one but Chuck would truly know how frozen it was. She could practically smell the superficiality behind their questions, almost a mild interrogation to try and appraisal. This was gonna be a long afternoon.

- - -

Across the yard, Chuck was trying his hardest to keep amiable with all the ego – minus Devon, of course – that was simply oozing from his current company. But with this group of guys, it was really trying. He had met a few of Devon and Ellie's fellow cohorts at their wedding and had found most of them to be very agreeable, but for some reason every single one of those were noticeably absent tonight, and Chuck found himself surrounded by a sea of arrogance and pretensions.

Returning back to the conversation, he chuckled dutifully as what he assumed was some surgeon joke, taking a sip of his drink to avoid cringing.

"So, Chuck, it's nice to see you," Joe Sayer remarked. "Ellie and Devon have mentioned you often, but we've never yet really had the chance to meet."

Chuck shrugged. "Different circles and all that. My profession doesn't cross much with Ellie's and Devon's."

"So you run that new company, right?"

Chuck smiled. "Yup. Traversal Industries."

"Awesome how everything turned out, huh?" Devon chuckled, slugging Chuck in his arm.

Chuck shrugged sheepishly. "Five-year plan may have taken a bit longer than I liked, but I'd like to think it all evened out in the end."

"'Evened out?'" Devon's perpetually cocked eyebrow lofted even more skyward. "Dude, you've compensated for that five-year skid about a million times over."

Chuck only laughed. He could tell his companions were itching to ask about his newly acquired lifestyle when Jared Winston, a surgeon who worked often with Ellie, held out hand. "Hold the phone…Devon, who's that blonde talking to your wife?"

Devon only grinned, nudging his brother-in-law. Chuck took the hint, feeling a tinge of déjà vu. "That's Sarah, my fiancée."

Immediately, the respect shot up from the men as they all eyed Sarah, the tell-tale sheen in all their eyes. Chuck couldn't really blame them. She looked absolutely stunning in the plum empire-waist tank top, those long legs he loved so much extending to forever beneath frayed denim mini skirt.

"Well done, Chuck," Topher Carlson drawled. "Hard to believe you'd land such a hottie, but I guess she has a good billion reasons to say yes."

Not a lot of things truly angered Chuck, but Sarah was always a good subject to get him riled, especially speaking ill about the nature of their relationship. Devon saw the tension in his brother-in-law's frame, and covertly grabbed the back of his shirt before Chuck could advance on his colleague.

"Actually, Sarah and Chuck were together long before Chuck hit it big," Devon corrected, feeling Chuck strain slightly against his hold. "She was with him even back when he was working the Nerd Herd."

"I gotta ask, Chuck," Topher continued, unaware of the veritable caged lion ready to liberally rip him to shreds. "What does a girl like that see in a guy like you?"

"Dude!" Devon began in defense of his brother-in-law, but Chuck's hand to his shoulder stopped him. He looked into Chuck's eyes and was slightly surprised at the calm, cold, calculating glint glittering in the almost ebony spheres.

"Well for one thing," Chuck cast a precursory glance over Carlson's slight frame, a good three inches shorter than Sarah, "I'm taller than her." Chuck smiled a mysterious smile, shrugging modestly. "With so many guys never seeing anything beyond her beauty, I think she was searching for a guy that appreciated the things below surface level."

Topher recoiled slightly, eyes narrowing at the implications. He opened his mouth to respond when Chuck abruptly cut him off.

"Devon, I'm gonna go check on Sarah, she's pleading at me from across the pool." Chuck grinned. "I think her current company is too overwhelming for her." He inclined his head to the rest of the men. "Excuse me, gentlemen."

Chuck redirected his path over to the group of ladies, charming smile affixed to his face. Deftly sliding into the space between Ellie and Sarah, he lightly lay a hand at Sarah's back, fingertips brushing the over the delicate lacing winding around the bust of her tank top before he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Hey, honey. I hope the conversation is a lot more stirring than the workings of the human heart. You know those cardio-thoracic doctors are just too sentimental."

Sarah smiled impishly. "What, Devon's company not up to par?"

Chuck smirked, his hold drifting down to her waist. "Hate to break it to you, babe, but he's not as pretty to look at as you are."

Sarah's eyebrows flicked upward. "Should I be worried?"

Chuck looked nonplussed. "I'm sure I'm breaking your heart here, sweetie, but he's not my type."

An elbow to his side drew his attention. "And I would _never_ think to forget you, too, sis. I'm sure Devon knows you're so much prettier." He turned to the rest of the women surrounding his sister and fiancée. "Good afternoon, ladies."

"Hi, Chuck."

Chuck recoiled back slightly as the breathy chorus reached his ears and all eyes turned to him. "I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with all of you."

As the round of introductions commenced and finished, Chuck grinned. "I hope I'm not cramping your female sensibilities with my presence."

"Hardly that," Gina Arden murmured. "We were just talking about you, actually."

"If it came from Ellie concerning a bathtub and a rubber duck, keep in mind that I was four…" Chuck glanced around at the confused faces, and smiled sheepishly. "But I guess that's irrelevant."

"Maybe it came from me," Sarah intoned coyly.

"Ah, but it wouldn't," Chuck refuted, "because I have some dirt about you and a certain ten-year high school reunion."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't…"

The milk chocolate in Chuck's irises simply twinkled. "Oh, I so would."

Ellie shook her head at her brother and his fiancée as they playfully bickered. Once they had sorted through the problems that had plagued them in the first two years of their relationship, it seemed as though a different couple had replaced them. One that was free with the endearments and the slight displays of affection. One that was quick to banter and tease, and certainly one that was eager to commit to a concrete status besides a vague allusion of complexity. The term "It's complicated" ceased to exist in the vocabulary concerning their relationship. Ellie smiled, catching the glint of Sarah's engagement ring paired with the charm bracelet Chuck had given her that rather bizarre Christmas they had stuck in the Buy More. There was absolutely nothing complicated about that little trinket on her finger. It was truly a relief that they had come to their senses and finally solidified their status as a lasting couple. If Ellie knew one thing to be certain, it was that Sarah was truly the perfect complement to her brother. She provided motivation the way that no other person seemed to have accomplished. She had often longed that the blonde would take the Bartowski name early in their relationship, but now seeing the engagement ring adorning Sarah's finger, knowing that the wedding was only a few short weeks away, Ellie couldn't be happier that Sarah would be joining the family.

Margot leaned in to her friend, observing the couple with amusement. "Do they do this often?"

Ellie only smiled. "You have no idea."

- - -

With the dim of the evening dusk upon them, Chuck and Sarah strolled along the garden path hand in hand, finally free of their compatriots. Ellie and Devon were just finishing cleaning up, and the last of the guests were exiting through the front door.

"Well that was pleasant."

Sarah snorted. "Sure. If you could wade through the ego. I love Ellie and Awesome, but I can't understand how they deal with some of those people day in and day out."

"That reminds me," Chuck shot a teasing glance at his fiancée, the fading daylight bathing her features in their radiance. "Why did I feel like a piece of meat in that little gathering?"

"Probably because every one of them, save Margot, was single and looking at you as though you could be bought like one," Sarah replied blithely.

"Hmm…what was the going rate?" He winced as Sarah's palm impacted with his chest. "Kidding. You're the only one who can buy my meat…" Chuck tilted his head slightly, considering his statement. "Wow, that was _unspeakably_ dirty."

Sarah laughed, shaking her head as they walked back towards the patio. "And with completely innocent intentions, too."

Chuck spluttered out a snort. "The best ones are."

Sarah rotated slightly, sliding her arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. "I appreciate the sentiment though, sweetie."

Chuck blushed. "Thanks."

Sarah smiled, running her palms down his chest. "You know, you have to start being more careful about whom you dazzle, Mr. Bartowski."

Chuck smirked. "Jealous, babe?"

Sarah quirked an eyebrow. "Hardly. I would just hate to explain to Ellie why she had to operate on one of her own colleagues."

Chuck laughed. "That's jealousy, Sarah. But while we're on the subject, you look particularly stunning today. Many of Awesome's colleagues noticed."

"Jealous, babe?" Sarah mocked.

"Hardly," Chuck retorted. "I would just hate to be forced to remove any vital organs from their bodies. After all, you can't quite operate on hearts if you don't have one of your own."

Sarah chuckled, propping her chin on his chest. "Well aren't we quite a pair?"

Chuck grinned, "If only they knew the real story of how we got to this part."

Sarah craned her neck up slightly, seeking his lips with her own, her height boosted up with the peep-toe wedges on her feet. "I doubt they'd believe it."

Chuck laughed, leaning back and lifting her off her feet. "I hardly believe it, myself."

Sarah nuzzled his neck, one hand running through his shortened curls. Slipping her arms around his waist, she leaned against his chest, eyes raking over the new Woodcomb house and sighed.

Chuck smiled to himself, recognizing the noise for what it was. "Something on your mind?"

"What makes you think that?" Sarah mumbled against the fabric of his shirt.

His chest rumbled as a laugh rippled through him. "Because that was a contemplative sigh."

Sarah shared his laugh. "What you have my sighs numbered like you do Casey's grunts?"

She could feel him smile even if she couldn't see it with her cheek nestled against his breastbone.

"No. I just know you." Chuck gazed down at the golden hair just beneath his eye line. "Well?"

Sarah paused before continuing, her voice soft with longing. "I want this."

The vague answer prompted Chuck to urge her forward. "What?"

"This," Sarah edified. "A house. A home. The condo is nice, but I want somewhere with a big yard and a pool…"

Chuck's innate perception kicked in. "Some place for the kids to run around?"

Sarah paused, gauging the tone in his voice before nodding shyly. "Yeah…"

Chuck's eyes twinkled with mirth. "Sarah Walker, are you implying you want a family?"

Sarah's slow smile spread across her face as she nodded. "Yeah, I think I am." She looked back at Ellie and Devon, sharing a kiss. "Not now. Not yet. But someday." She craned her head upward to her fiancé. "You think we'll have our white picket face and two-point-five?"

"I refuse to relegate our children to a statistic," Chuck refuted firmly. "That, and I have no idea how to conceive point-five of a child."

"Well do you?"

"Of course I do," Chuck asserted. He leaned in and nudged her nose with his. "And I think you'll make the best mom.

"Really?"

"Without a doubt."

Sarah sighed happily, nestling into the crook of his neck, her mind already whirling with thoughts of a little girl with her hair and Chuck's eyes or a little boy with her eyes and Chuck's curls. Chuck tightened his embrace, palms running up and down her back in a smooth, soothing rhythm.

Sarah nipped at his chin, breaking from her daydream. "You ready to go?"

Chuck smirked. "You so eager to start our baby making?"

Sarah grinned wickedly. "Oh, honey, we don't need that as an excuse…"

Chuck chuckled, holding her captive with one arm around her waist, the other lovingly brushing her bangs from her face. "Let's go."

Ellie glanced up as the couple approached to say their goodbyes. She smiled, accepting the kiss to the cheek from her brother and wrapping Sarah up in a hug. She sighed as they departed, arms around each other's waists. She had witnessed their entire exchange from a distance and beamed to herself. Yes, her brother had changed. This afternoon made that all too clear. But in her opinion, his changes had been nothing but for the better.

- - -

It was just after midnight when the insistent buzzing sounded from his phone at the bedside table. Chuck groaned as he rolled away from the warmth of his wife. He snatched the device from its place, groping for the answer button and raised the phone to his ear. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stifled a yawn behind his fist.

"'Lo?" As the familiar baritone of his brother-in-law, Chuck blinked blearily, glancing over at the clock, the numbers illuminated amidst the dark room. "Devon?"

Whatever residual affects of his slumber vanished as Devon's frantic tone bumbled out a barely coherent sentence. He shifted as Sarah awakened, sitting up behind him.

"Chuck?"

He held a hand up, the furrow in his forehead deepening as he processed Devon's words. The brown in his eyes flashed darker as his mouth tightened.

"We'll be there in five."

He looked down at the phone, watching as the screen flickered, signaling the end of the call. He rotated slightly, catching Sarah's eye as she looked at him worriedly over his shoulder. The sheen in his eyes was unlike anything she had ever seen before. It was a conflicted glint, torn between ferocious, inhuman rage and heady, feeble concern, the color a shade lighter than but without the merry twinkle.

"What's wrong?"

Chuck blew out a breath. "Ellie's missing, and Devon just got a ransom call."

- - -

Chuck threw the Rover into park, tires squealing just short of the curb. With a frantic bound, he tumbled out of the SUV before he had scarcely extracted the keys. With Sarah at his heels, he made a beeline to the front door that Devon flung open the moment he saw his in-laws approach.

"Devon!" The name flew from Chuck's mouth the same as Devon began speaking, his voice hoarse and panicked.

"Chuck, I don't…I can't. She was just…and…" Devon trailed off, his rampant emotions rendering him into a rambling mess, incoherent and haphazard.

Chuck grabbed his brother-in-law by the shoulders. "Devon, slow down. What happened?"

"I don't know!" Devon cried. "We needed more trash bags for the stuff from the party so Ellie went to the store to get some. She was gone for a bit, but you know how she is. She goes out for one thing and comes back with fifty things. But when an hour turned into four, I got worried. So I called her cell, and some guy picked up saying they had her."

Chuck's expression darkened in turn with the glint in his eyes. "And?"

"They're demanding five million dollars for her." Devon began pacing back and forth anxiously. "Chuck, bro, I don't know what to do. I don't have that kind of cash."

"No…but I do."

Devon started, eyes wide with fear. "Do you think…?"

"This was a message to me," Chuck asserted, running one hand through his tousled hair. "They must have known you wouldn't have that type of money to pay the ransom and would go to me. This is a play for Charles Montgomery."

Devon sank down onto his couch, anxiously fiddling with the white gold wedding band at his finger. "What are we gonna do? They'll hurt Ellie if we don't pay, and they already said they don't want the police involved."

Chuck caught Sarah's eye, the two conversing without words. With a barely discernible nod, the couple agreed, and Chuck turned to his brother-in-law.

"Devon, we're gonna take care of this."

Devon swallowed hard, looking at his surroundings. This was his home with Ellie. They were celebrating finally moving out of an apartment and into an actual house when this had happened. Devon rose and shoved his hands in his pockets, his normally lively and animated eyes dulled with worry. He shook his head. "Chuck, bro…"

Chuck took his brother-in-law's arm, drawing him to the side. "Devon, the police will not be able to do much." He looked Awesome straight in the eye. "Let me use my resources."

Devon closed his eyes, finally showing his age in a way that had never been present in the good Captain's normal emotional repertoire. "Chuck…"

"Devon."

Devon recoiled back at the tone of Chuck's voice. This was a side of his brother-in-law that he had never seen before. Chuck was commanding and stern, his eyes flashing black. There was something about the normally amiable man that gave the good Captain pause. Devon could see the conviction behind the younger man's eyes and took a step back, nodding seriously.

"Alright, bro. You do what you have to do."

"We'll get her back, Devon. Just hang tight here."

Devon watched as his brother-in-law rotated, striding towards his fiancée. The pair conversed shortly for a moment before rushing out the door. He had never seen Chuck like this before. He was almost militant in the way he commanded the situation. He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but something in him believed Chuck. All he had to do was wait.

- - -

Team Chuck stood before the large screen in the secret room of the Bartowski homestead. Before them the dual authority of Graham and Beckman hovered, listening to the information they had just become privy to.

"Let me get this straight," General Beckman asserted, "you wish to lead your team in a rescue mission of your sister."

"Yes," Chuck asserted, arms crossed over his chest. "Agents Grayson and Walker, Colonel Casey, and I wish to personally handle this matter."

Director Graham gazed sternly at the assembled team. "Do you believe these kidnappers have any indication of your ties to the Agency?"

"No," Chuck answered. "I don't believe this has any relation to the Intersect. I believe this is a ploy just for Charles Montgomery."

"And I assume you wish to take care of this problem without the local authorities?" Beckman cut in.

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck answered. "This is personal. I intend to handle it personally. I don't trust local authorities to…properly conduct a matter of this extent."

"Be aware, Agent Bartowski, that you and your team will not have the government's backing on this one," Beckman cautioned.

Chuck only smiled, knowing exactly what the general meant by that assertion. "Yes, General."

"That being said," the glint in her eyes told the team all they needed to know, "Good luck." _Give them hell._

Casey grinned that animalistic grin that could strike fear into the hearts of the toughest of men. "You heard the general." He extracted the Beretta from his waistband, cocking the weapon almost gleefully. "God, I love the sound of that. Especially for a good cause."

- - -

Sarah entered the weapons area of their base, already equipped with her tactical gear, to find her fiancé sitting on one of the benches. He was dressed in a compression black t-shirt and combat boots, a bulletproof vest and his Walther at his side. His tall frame was hunched over, his head in his hands as he gazed at the photo of him and Ellie at her wedding. The unshed tears mingled at his eyelids, but he refused to let them drop.

Sarah eased herself onto the bench beside him, pressing a kiss to his temple, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. "Hey, babe, don't worry. We'll get Ellie back. There's no one better than us."

Chuck was silent for a long moment, eyes downcast and hands anxiously playing with the strap of his tactical watch, but when he spoke, it was a voice controlled and tense, the voice of Charles Montgomery.

"The first time someone threatened Ellie, I couldn't really do anything. The second time someone threatened Ellie, I was forced to comply with his demands. Not this time. I can do something, and I refuse to just sit by and watch."

Sarah cupped his face in her hands. "Remember who you are, babe. Remember that at the core you are Chuck Bartowski."

Chuck's features were strained with the repressed anger bubbling at the surface. "I want to hurt them. I want to truss them up and use them as punching bags before killing them slowly, making them suffer."

"But you won't," Sarah asserted softly. "Because you are Chuck Bartowski, and you're a better person than that."

"Is that wrong?" Chuck's whisper was hardly audible, holding the naive quality of an innocent child who had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"What do you think?"

His sigh was heavy with intent, conceding to basic moral logic. "I guess so."

"I'm not saying it's wrong to think that," Sarah amended slightly. "It's only human. I feel the same way, but both you and I know where we can't cross the line, if not only for keeping our own humanity. If it comes to that, we'll do what we have to. But only then."

Chuck trembled, his fingers balled into fists and held tightly to his forehead as he rocked back and forth. Sarah could tell he was battling with himself, combating with the polar emotions of vicious rage and helpless anxiety. Finally, he crumbled, the weight of the situation bearing too heavily on his conscience. He collapsed into her, the tears finally eclipsing the threshold, and she folded herself around him, cradling him to her breast. The sobs wracked at his normally strong frame. His fingers clutched at her shirt, physically seeking purchase and comfort even if emotionally, he was floundering. She simply held him, soothing him as best she could. After a few moments, his choppy, ragged breaths slowed and steadied, retaining the deep, even pace of a precarious calm. The muscles beneath her fingertips became bunched and tensed as the transition from Chuck Bartowski to Charles Montgomery became complete.

"Are you ready?"

Chuck hefted himself up, his head bowed as he composed himself. When he lifted his head again, his milk chocolate spheres shone with the dark determination and cold ferocity of Special Agent Charles Montgomery. He reached down, grabbing the vest and slipping his arms through the holes, latching the straps securely. He grabbed his Walther, looking at it contemplatively before locking it, slipping the firearm into one of his thigh holsters. Without a word, he rotated, striding out of the cage.

Sarah watched him go before following him out, grabbing her Colt semi-automatic on the way, pausing slightly to swipe a Colt M4. It was one thing to say what she had to Chuck; it was another to follow through on it herself. She felt the same helpless anger as Chuck did. Ellie was her sister. She was her family. This was personal.

- - -

Chuck stood before his team. Three pairs of eyes, ranging from a bold royal blue, to a piercing ice blue, to a sparkling forest green stared back at him. They had never indulged in pep talks before missions; the gesture would be asinine and empty. But this wasn't their typical mission. This wasn't something that had come from the Intersect or some dossier. This was one of their own at risk. The words needed to be said.

"This is personal for all of us. Ellie is part of our family. No matter if you argue it or not, there is emotion behind this. Let it fuel you. Show them no mercy. They fuck with us, we will fuck them over tenfold. There is no doubt that we will bring her back alive and well." Chuck took in a deep breath, turning towards the SUV.

"Let's do this."

- - -

There was a sense of feral urgency as Team Chuck bore down on their destination. All involved knew the severity of the situation and treated it accordingly. With the unconscious precision honed through the years, the core group of four moved silently into position. Their auxiliary team moved swiftly behind them, weapons at the ready, waiting for the agent in charge to give the signal.

Chuck's voice sounded soft and slow through the communications link as he ascended to his designated perch. All eyes were fixated on the warehouse before them. The place Ellie's kidnappers had taken her, housing her until the exchange, loomed ominously in the foreground. From his point, he checked his weapons, gazing down from his spot to the team enclosing the area.

"Everyone ready? We go hard and fast."

The affirmations came quick as the team readied, moving as one. Chuck checked his watch. It was almost time.

"And counting down."

Neil loaded a clip into his assault rifle, the swarm of agents behind him, hand raised and waiting for the signal. He was new to Team Chuck, barely a few months in, but the eldest Bartowski had been the first to truly welcome him with the genuine open heart she was known for. Neil gripped the handle of his weapon strongly. He was happy to render his services to this team for this cause. In his eyes, there was no better use of his skills.

"Three…"

Casey aimed his rocket launcher at the entrance, eyeing the scope with a sick glee. It had been quite a while since he was able to handle the heavy machinery. And no better purpose than today.

"Two…"

Sarah readied herself at the south entrance, her own team fanning her back. There was nothing more she would like to do than to charge in there and rip every one of Ellie's kidnapper's heads off. For whatever reason, they felt it suitable to take this woman who had nothing to do with Chuck other than having the fortune of relations. She was a mechanism for whatever sick game these kidnappers were playing.

Chuck crept along his entrance point, placing devices strategically along the glass. He looked down to where Ellie sat bound to a chair, surrounded in a half-circle by the men that had taken her. Go time.

"One."

- - -

Ellie trembled as she looked up into the green eyes of the man before her, the only visible physical trait available to her. He paced before her as his fellows flanked him from behind. He was toying with her, knowing that he had the power. She looked down at herself, hands and feet tied, mouth shut with duct tape. The events that had brought her to this point – bound and gagged to a chair in the middle of a warehouse she had no idea where it was located – had been a blur, a whirlwind of action that dragged her along for the ride.

They had mocked and ridiculed her, taunted her, taken sick glee in her terror, but thankfully had not physically harmed her. They weren't after her. She was just a means to an end. They were after her brother and the immense wealth he had at his fingertips. She was just a pawn in their game. A game that was rapidly losing time. Chuck had about five minutes before they would retaliate.

The leader checked his watch, shaking his head in mock sadness. "Well, Dr. Woodcomb, it seems as though your brother has no sense of punctuality. Looks like we're gonna have to send him a bit of a message. Perhaps a body part?"

Ellie shrank away as he advanced, drawing a knife. He was about five feet away when explosions rocked the warehouse, and the glass above them shattered. Her kidnappers dove away from the rapidly tumbling particles, and Ellie gasped as a black blur descended from the roof to land in a crouched position right in front of her, his back to her. Ellie couldn't speak, only looked up in awe at the broad-shouldered, imposing figure straightened, physically placing himself between her and her kidnappers. His muscles were bunched, evident in the tight black shirt poured over the lean frame and protected by the bullet-proof vest. A semi-automatic pistol was holstered at his right thigh, extra magazines at pouches on his hip. His fists were clenched at his sides and ready to strike.

But what truly astonished her was the face revealed when her mysterious savior rotated and shot her a reassuring wink.

It was her brother's.

The mountain of man with enough ammo to send all of Texas into orbit was her goofy, mild-mannered, completely harmless brother. Who had leaped from the roof of a warehouse to land in front of her. With guns strapped to his thighs. Ellie had never even seen Chuck look the way he did now, so commanding and completely dangerous. She had never noticed, but seeing him now, the muscles were clearly defined beneath his shirt, ready for action.

"Hope you don't mind me dropping in."

Ellie suppressed a shiver. His voice was far from its normally cheerful timbre. It held a cold, falsely amiable, and slightly mordant tone. Rather than the welcoming warmth that it normally exuded, it made the hearer wary, as though the affable façade would crumble just as quickly as it manifested.

"Mr. Montgomery, so nice of you to join us," the leader simpered. "We were having such a nice chat with your sister."

Chuck inclined his head, the steady, intense stare not leaving his face. "I'll bet. She's quite the conversationalist."

"By your presence, I assume you've agreed to our demands."

"Well, you know what they say about assuming," he quipped absently. He looked back again to Ellie, and she drew in a sharp breath at the ebony of his normally milk chocolate eyes. It was as though the color had been completely engulfed by the dark sheen encompassing the irises.

"She doesn't look like she's been harmed. That will work in your favor."

A smirk flashed from beneath the ski mask. "Brave words from a software mogul. And that outfit. Very impressive. Sadly, I don't think squirt guns and smoke grenades are very conducive to your cause."

Chuck only tilted his head, his dark stare betraying nothing.

Unnerved by the steady silence, crumbling slightly beneath the piercing ebony gaze, the head kidnapper decided to regain control of the situation. "Well, Mr. Montgomery, where is my money?"

"Your money?" Chuck cocked an eyebrow. "You say that as though I've consented to your terms."

"Mr. Montgomery, you realize that if you do not meet my demands, I will have to kill your sister."

"Well, to get to my sister, you will have to get through me." Chuck visibly moved to stand right before Ellie, blocking her from her kidnappers' view. "And I dare you to try."

Ellie's eyes widened as Chuck faced down the group advancing on him. He didn't shrink away, only steeled himself, readying himself for the confrontation.

"Ellie!"

Ellie jumped at the whisper, and her eyes widened as she found her brother's fiancée beside her with a very large assault rifle in her hands.

"Ellie, are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine," Ellie managed to stutter out.

Sarah nodded, deftly slicing through her bonds. "We have to get you out of here." Grabbing her by the arm, Sarah rushed Ellie back towards a group of crates that gave them ample cover in case Chuck needed some additional backup. Her back against the wood box, Sarah scanned their surroundings before deeming them acceptable. She raised a hand to her ear, the other keeping the rifle at the ready.

"Casey, do you copy?" Sarah listened for a moment. "I have Ellie, and Chuck's got the kidnappers occupied." She listened again before cursing softly. "Dammit. What about Neil's end?" She rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd do it the messy way. Yeah, I've got it covered. Men…" Sarah turned back to Ellie. "All exits are blocked. We might have to wait this out."

Ellie blankly nodded, the realization of what she was seeing yet to fully hit her, and she swallowed hard, venturing out a thought. "What about Chuck?"

A ghost of a smile flitted over Sarah's lips before she shook her head. "Don't worry about Chuck. He can take care of himself."

Ellie helplessly turned back to her brother to find him in the midst of a scuffle with no less than six men. Through the melee, she could see him circle his attackers before pouncing in a whirl of fists and feet. He moved with a grace and efficiency that astounded her. There was no hesitation or awkwardness as he faced off against his opponents. He was constantly in motion, dancing, dodging, twisting, moving with an elegance paired with such ferocity that she couldn't decide whether it was beautiful or vicious. His movements were swift, sure, and precise, punches landing with deadly accuracy, transitioning swiftly to his next strike or kick with such speed that it was difficult to discern from its predecessor.

Ellie gasped as one attacker pulled a knife, advancing on her brother with wild slashes that he dodged deftly. She watched as he blocked an overhead stab and in a movement so quick, she wasn't quite sure it wasn't an affectation of the mind, he rotated his wrists, turning the knife on his attacker, ramming the blade right under the breastbone. Barely pausing, he wrenched the weapon out, oblivious to the body hitting the ground, before flipping his grip to the blade and whirling sharply, sending the knife into the shoulder of another charging assailant. This wasn't her brother. The Chuck she knew could hardly throw a baseball, never mind a knife.

"Sarah?"

Sarah shook her head, sensing the unasked question in the elder woman's eyes. "We'll explain everything later. Right now, we have to concentrate on getting you out of here safely." She checked her watch. "Chuck should be finishing up right about…now."

Sarah poked her head out to find Chuck stalking around the head kidnapper, the rest either unconscious or dead at his feet. Ellie's breaths had quickened, clutching onto Sarah's arm as she witnessed her brother at his deadliest.

"I don't know what you expected to gain from this," Chuck growled at his captive lying gasping at his feet. "To be honest, I don't even care. Whatever your motive, whatever your reasons, it's all irrelevant." He kicked out, his boot connecting with the man's stomach. "You know, a good part of me really just wants to make you suffer."

The man collapsed, falling to his hands and knees, gasping for breath. "You can't do this…"

"And you can't kidnap people," Chuck mocked. "It's kinda against the law." He reached out with the toe of his boot, rolling his captive over to his back. "Your game is over. You thought you could bully me into paying money through my sister. Guess what, Einstein, I don't play too well with bullies. I had childhood issues."

"Even the all-powerful Charles Montgomery isn't above the law," came the sneer.

"Ah, I could plead voluntary manslaughter," Chuck remarked offhandedly. "But I digress…You see, my friend, the great thing about networking the way I do is that you amass connections. And I have powerful enough connections, influential enough connections to ensure that the government turns a blind eye to what has transpired between us."

Chuck grabbed the man by his throat, hauling him up and slamming him against the wall. "And I have half a mind to rip your organs out through your nose and hang you over my mantle like a deer head."

Chuck caught a glimpse of the tattoo inked into the neck, peeking out from beneath the mask, and the ebony eyes narrowed as the flash triggered.

"Well, looks like you're a bit of a celebrity as well. Jeremiah Bingham, cousin of Tyler Bingham. Second-in-command of international relations for the Aryan Brotherhood. Six years in for possession of illegal narcotics. But we all know there was intent to distribute. You only got out of life because of some under-the-table deals. Interesting." The fear became palpable as Chuck gleaned the identity Ellie's kidnapper. "Thought you could coerce me into funding your little group? I don't think so. You fuck with Charles Montgomery and anyone associated with him, there is no remote hole large enough for you to hide. Yes, I think that's a good message to send to your friends."

"You send us back, more will come in bigger numbers."

"Who says I'm sending you back alive?" Chuck withdrew his Walther, jamming the muzzle against the man's cheek. "I could very easily send you back to wherever you came from in a body bag. That would send a very potent message to your fellows, wouldn't it?"

The man spluttered, the grip on his larynx halting whatever retort he had ready. Chuck's fingers only tightened around the handle, his index flirting with the trigger. He could shoot. He could take that step.

"Chuck…"

His name was barely a whisper, but he heard it resonate as though it was a shout.

He rotated to Ellie.

And paused.

He saw his sister's eyes, wild with fear. The fear the lowlife he held at his fingers caused. His primal instinct to avenge and protect her warred with his rational sense of morality. He looked from Ellie to the man he held by the throat. He could see her pleading with him, the terror in her eyes as she witnessed something so foreign in association with the Chuck she knew. He saw the man before him, the hate and the derision he felt mixed with the fear and the knowledge that he was way in over his head. Jade green eyes filled his vision while dull emerald ones lingered at the back of his mind. He saw the bodies strewn over the warehouse floor and Ellie in Sarah's arms. The anger crumbled. He had completed the mission objective. She was safe. It was over.

He growled at Bingham, fingers flexing ominously. The coal black stare pierced through his captive before flickering with disgust. "You're not worth it."

He relaxed his grip, watching the man slid down the wall, gasping for air. He turned, holstering the pistol and walking away.

"Chuck!"

Chuck rotated, just in time to move his head to the left, avoiding the blade slashing through the air. Grabbing the outstretched arm, he fell backwards, kicking a leg up and flipping his attacker over his body. Using his momentum to roll him atop Bingham, he knocked the knife out of reach, grunting as a knuckle dug into his side. His assailant tumbled away, rising to his feet. Chuck ducked under a punch, flitting a jab to the solar plexus that doubled him over. He winced as a cross whipped his head to the side. Chuck batted away another punch, charging forward and tackling him around the waist. Lifting him bodily, Chuck flipped the man into a hold. The duo struggled for a moment, fighting for dominance before a well-placed kick forced Bingham to his knees, an arm wrapped around his throat. Chuck's arm tightened, oblivious to the gasping and wheezing. With a final twist, the tell-tale snap sounded, and the man fell limp. Chuck released the body, allowing it to slump to the ground. His shoulders slumped in turn, the weariness showing as he slowly rotated, shuffling back towards his sister and fiancée. This is what it had come to. But, strangely, he felt no sense of completion, only the inertia and apathy that came with the costly struggle for survival. It was Charles Montgomery at his best, and at the moment, Chuck hated him.

Chuck sank to his knees, reaching out to his sister. "Ellie? Ellie, are you okay?"

Ellie shrank back slightly, her eyes unfocused and unseeing.

Chuck cupped his sister's face, fingertips lightly skating over the contours that resembled his own. "Hey, big sis. It's me. It's Chuck. It's okay. They're not gonna hurt you anymore."

Ellie blinked at the familiar voice, deep and soothing with that undertone of affability. "Chuck? Wh…wh–?"

"Shhh," Chuck hushed her, wrapping her up in his arms. "I'll explain everything soon. Let's just get you out of here. Devon's worried sick."

- - -

The ride back to the Woodcomb homestead was quiet and precariously tense as Ellie held onto her brother's hand as though letting go would rip her away from this sanctuary he had brought her back to. On her other side, she leaned into Sarah, keeping physical contact with either of them as though to reassure herself she was, indeed, safe.

As soon as the SUV pulled up, Ellie bolted up and sprinted to the door of her house. The moment the door opened, Devon's head snapped up and he stared frantically at the entranceway. Ellie's face came into view, and he leaped up from his seat and bolted towards her, wrapping her in his embrace. Chuck smiled his first genuine smile since this whole situation started as Devon clung to Ellie as though he would never let her go.

Devon broke away from his wife, his eyes shining with tears, and he turned to his brother-in-law. He wrapped the younger man in a hug, murmuring his thanks over and over again. Chuck only held Devon, allowing him to sob. Finally, Devon pulled away, and his eyes widened as he took in Chuck, Sarah, Neil, and Casey. Took in the weapons holstered and safetied, and the relatively battered appearances. Took in the shirt he was clutching was actually a bulletproof vest.

"Chuck…?"

Chuck sighed, knowing this was the beginning of a very long process. "Sit down, and we'll explain everything." He turned slightly, extracting a small device from a pocket of his vest. Removing half of the device, he walked towards the Wodcomb's television and placed it on the mantle beside the flat screen. Chuck pulled an input cable from the side that was plugged into the back of the television. Immediately, an antenna extended, and the screen flickered with an unrecognizable crest before fading back to black. Chuck flipped open the remaining half of the device in his hand to reveal a miniscule keyboard. Thumbs moving expertly across the buttons, he tapped in a sequence. The screen twittered in a noise that could only be construed as an affirmative before Chuck closed the device.

"Don't be alarmed, but we're gonna have some more people joining us for this conversation, and it's pretty imperative that they're here for this."

Devon tensed, unsure of how he felt about having unknown people over so early into the aftermath. "Who would that be?"

"That would be us."

Ellie and Devon jumped as the large television in their living room beeped back to life and the rather deep voice addressed them. A tall, bald, black man in a plain black suit hovered over a seated petite redhead dressed in the navy blues of the US Air Force and bearing the insignias of a brigadier general.

Chuck gestured to their two newest arrivals. "Devon, Ellie, CIA Director Langston Graham and US Air Force General Diane Beckman of the NSA."

"CIA? NSA?" Ellie's eyes widened. "As in the federal government?"

"Yeah," Chuck breathed out, his voice quiet and weary. "This all begins and ends with the government. More specifically, the government's secrets. The stuff that they really don't want the civilians to know."

He started pacing, trying to give himself something to do to avoid looking at his sister. "You see, I have a special brain. I'm not talking just about my intelligence – don't start, Casey," Chuck wryly joked, intuitively sensing that the hulking NSA agent was opening his mouth. "It's called subliminal image recognition. Essentially, I am able to look at an image and see thousands of smaller images encoded within it."

"Everything started at Stanford," he continued. "Senior year I took a class with Professor George Fleming. What I didn't know was that Professor Fleming was a recruiter for the CIA and used his tests to identify potential candidates for the Company. My test scores were off the charts, and Fleming was pushing for me as a strong candidate for their program because of my aptitude for this subliminal image recognition."

"But you were expelled from Stanford," Ellie pointed out. "That must mean you didn't become a spy back then."

"Well, I would have been at the end of senior year, or at least been offered the opportunity, but Bryce Larkin put a stop to that. He persuaded Fleming to halt my recruitment. He said that I was a good person who didn't have the heart for this line of work. He didn't think I'd last a day in this job." Chuck paused to snort at the irony of it all before continuing. "Fleming argued that I was a guarantee for the program. Nothing short of some sort of invalidation would take me off the track. Bryce, being a self-righteous bastard with a God/hero complex, decides he is the sole savior of my innocence and concocts a plan to get me expelled and nullify my test results."

"This is a great trip down memory lane, Chuck, but what does it have to do with your obviously current employment in the CIA?" Ellie asked.

Chuck chuckled humorlessly. "This is where it gets a bit tricky."

"This begins long before your brother was even involved," Beckman commented. "With the threat of terrorist factions becoming more and more of an issue, the intelligence community decided it prudent to store of the government's Intel into a single program. That project yielded a government supercomputer that housed the data of the respective intelligence agencies. That computer was known as the Intersect."

Ellie gave him a nonplussed stare. "And this pertains how?"

"The night of my twenty-seventh birthday party, Bryce sent me an email containing the Intersect. And my brain, being the way it is, essentially downloaded the file. I essentially hold all of the government's secrets in my brain."

Ellie frowned, looking at the woman idling behind her brother. "That was the day before you met Sarah."

Chuck nodded, knowing this part would probably be the hardest to reveal to his sister. "Sarah came down here to see if I had anything to do with Bryce and his betrayal of the CIA."

"That time period is close to when John moved into the area, too," Devon remarked.

"Casey, well, he was sent to kill me originally." Chuck smirked. "But when we all realized that the secrets weren't coming out of my head anytime soon –"

"Not that he didn't try," Casey butted in with a smirk.

Chuck continued as though he hadn't been interrupted. "Casey and Sarah stayed on as my handlers and protectors."

"And what do you two have to do with this?" Ellie asked, gesturing to their two guests.

"We are Chuck's superiors," Graham asserted. "We monitor the functions of the Intersect, the computer in Chuck's brain, and instruct the team on how to proceed with the information extracted."

"Every so often, an international terrorist or organization infiltrates our boundaries to disrupt the peace," Beckman continued. "Most of the time, Chuck either stumbles into contact with these people through a completely random occurrence or we receive information that alerts us to happenings. When he sees an image embedded within the Intersect, it triggers the secrets in his head in what we have come to call a 'flash.' Their job is then to either apprehend the suspect or provide more information for the government."

"So what are you?" Devon chimed in. "A cop? A soldier?"

Chuck reached into a pocket and withdrew his credentials and badge. Ellie wordlessly took the offering, looking over the picture and running her fingers over the badge. "I'm a Special Agent of the CIA."

"Your brother has been invaluable to the safety of the American people," Beckman commented in a rare compliment.

Graham nodded in agreement. "He is truly an asset to both agencies."

Chuck smiled, turning to his superiors. "Director Graham, General Beckman, I think we'll take it from here."

"So all of this has happened in the past five years, all without me knowing and you deliberately keeping it from me?"

Chuck swallowed hard, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. "Yeah."

Ellie didn't respond for the longest moment, before her eyes took on a definitive sheen. "Okay."

Standing, she shifted slightly, venturing out to the backyard without a backwards glance.

Chuck watched her leave, rubbing a hand down his face. He turned to his partners. "That definitely could have gotten worse."

Sarah cocked an eyebrow. "How, exactly?"

Chuck shrugged. "She didn't hit me. Casey hit me the first time he found out you and I…"

"And I promised I'd put a bullet in your brain if you ever mentioned that again," Casey growled baring his teeth.

"You really have to come up with a different threat, Casey."

Sarah rolled her eyes, bringing the two males back on track. "I'm gonna go talk to Ellie. I'm sure she has so much to say to me…"

"On what?" Chuck asked.

Sarah gave him an incredulous look. "What do you think, babe? We basically just told her that everything she's known for the last five years has been part of the biggest ruse ever."

Chuck sighed. "Even our relationship…" He quirked a wry half smile. "Good luck."

- - -

Sarah hovered at the doorway to the patio and pool. She wasn't sure how to approach her future sister-in-law. She knew the questions would be endless, and to be honest, she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the inquiries she knew lingered just below the surface. Still, she approached Ellie tentatively.

"Ellie? Is there anything I can do for you?"

The tall brunette didn't look at her, only continued to stare out at the sun just rising over the horizon. "Is it just a cover? Is it all just a lie?"

She knew what Ellie was asking. She anticipated it as one of the first questions asked of her. It was a simple question, and five years ago, the answer would have been so convoluted and complex Sarah would be hard-pressed to answer it straight. Now, it was simple. He had made it simple even if it had started as hardly so.

"It started off as a ruse, yes," Sarah admitted. "A way for me to plausibly be close to him without arousing suspicion."

Ellie exhaled slowly. "And everything during that time? The dinners, the kisses, the gatherings?"

"Was just to abet the cover," Sarah affirmed.

"It was very convincing."

Sarah caught the undertone in her companion's voice. "Ellie, I am a trained operative in things like deception, seduction, and manipulation. I am able to convincingly portray any type of person from any nationality at any given time."

Ellie didn't speak, and Sarah glanced down at the ring on her finger, back to its designated spot. "I could have very easily seduced him just so he would be more susceptible to my devices, but I didn't."

Sarah felt her mind flash back to a time right after Jill Roberts had made her first reappearance in Chuck's life. "I once told him to leave the deception to me, and the only time I ever consciously deceived your brother was when I told him that I didn't have feelings for him. I lied because the truth was, he wore me down." Sarah chuckled to herself.

"I fell in love with him. All parts of him, completely and irrevocably."

She sobered. "Ellie, many of the things I have told you have been lies due to omission and skewed half-truths, but the one thing I have never fabricated are my feelings for both you and your brother. You, Devon, Chuck, you're my family. And when I accepted your brother's ring, it was wholly and genuinely with real intentions. I love Chuck. I love you like a sister, Devon as a brother. It may have started off as just a cover, but I promise you that now it's as real as it gets."

Ellie didn't answer for a moment, only continued to stare out to the endless expanse of dawning sky. Finally, she turned to Sarah, nodding once. "I'm glad."

She didn't offer anything more.

- - -

Back in the Woodcomb stronghold, Devon glanced over to where Casey was packing up their gear. Neil had already begun the trek back to debrief the brass and begin the mission reports. He had been in the same room as the NSA agent and had patiently bore the brunt of the awkward silence. Sighing in defeat, Devon shuffled to the kitchen, extracting two bottles from the fridge. Returning to the living room, Devon offered out one of the bottles. Casey took the peace offering gratefully, relieving the bottle of its cap with a definitive twist of his wrist. Devon cast a good, long look at the hulking man, finally seeing him fully for the first time.

"You were a soldier, weren't you?"

"Airman," Casey answered gruffly. "Now just a semi-retired Lieutenant Colonel."

Devon smirked. "Yeah, you never really fit as an appliance salesman."

Casey grunted. "Worse damn cover of my life."

Devon frowned, his thoughts reverting back to the information they had just received. He thought about Chuck, remembering his brother-in-law and his moments of bumbling inelegance and social awkwardness, so different from the Chuck that had been revealed to them over the last few years. "How much of Chuck was just a hoax?"

Casey smirked. "None of it," he answered. "When he trips over air or starts rambling when he's nervous, that's still him. Sure, he's gotten coordinated, can shoot a gun, make a bomb out of a tube of toothpaste, and fly most working aircraft, but at the core, he's still Chuck. Loser still has his video games, comic books, and that God forsaken _Tron_ poster. He can still recite the opening rollups from each _Star Wars_ episode verbatim, and Walker's still irked he refuses to sell his collection of first-printing _Spiderman_ comics." Casey looked at the younger man.

"He's Chuck Bartowski first and Agent Bartowski second. That part has never been compromised. Me and Walker," Casey shrugged, "we've both done some pretty unsavory things to some really unsavory people, all for the country. Inherently, yeah, we're good people, but externally, we're the worst kind. The kind that would offer up a smile to your face and shake your hand then offer that same smile with a bullet to your back." He took a sip of his beer. "Chuck…Chuck's different. He's not like your typical government spook. He's able to separate be the nerd from the spy." Casey looked Devon straight in the eye.

"In this business, you have emotions, you're dead. Your brother-in-law pretty much sends all logic about what we do to hell. Bryce Larkin might have been too quick to assume Chuck couldn't handle what we do, but he was wrong. Chuck is good at this _because_ he has the heart. _Because_ he's a good person. Not in spite of it. He's not an emotionless tool. He cares. You won't find another agent like Chuck Bartowski."

As though he realized exactly how sentimental his little tirade was, Casey clammed up quick, chugging the last of the alcohol. Devon only smirked.

"I gather you're not trying to kill Chuck anymore."

Casey huffed out another grunt. "Are you kidding? Goddamn bastard sets me off at least once a day, and that's just for kicks."

- - -

Back in the kitchen, Chuck straightened from his lean against the doorway as Sarah reentered the house. "How'd it go?"

Sarah shrugged, ducking her head slightly. "Hard to tell. She didn't say much."

Chuck sighed, glancing out at his sister's form before nodding. "Okay…I should talk to her."

Sarah nodded. "Alright." Reaching up, she brushed a stray curl from his face, fingertips skating down the line of his cheekbone. "I love you."

Chuck quirked a sad smile, knowing the endearment was something to reassure the both of them. "Love you, too."

Gathering up his courage, Chuck stepped out to the backyard to what would prove to be the most difficult conversation of his life.

- - -

Much like his fiancée, Chuck approached tentatively. Whether it was her natural intuition or whether she just anticipated his arrival, Ellie seemed to know of his presence, her shoulders tensing.

"Hey."

"Hey," Ellie's reply was absent, almost faraway as he eased down onto the lawn chair beside her. Finally, she turned to face him, and when she did, maternal instinct reared its head as she took in the state of his face.

"Oh my God, you're bleeding. Have you cleaned those cuts yet?"

Slightly bewildered, Chuck tried to get her attention back on track. "Ellie…"

She cut him off, rising swiftly to her feet. "Stay here. Let me grab a kit to fix you up."

Chuck sighed as she bustled off, returning only seconds later with a first-aid kit in her grasp. Scooting the chair closer, she doused a liberal amount of antiseptic on a cotton ball, dabbing it onto the gash on his cheekbone. He didn't flinch, just looked at her, the relentless pool of milk chocolates burning into her. He was studying her, trying to gauge her actions. Her hands worked in the precision born from her craft as she tended to him. Her eyes were narrowed as she concentrated on dabbing the cut, all of her focus fixated on the damage that came from one man's fist. Chuck stayed silent, letting her make the first move. Finally, a few long minutes later, she spoke.

"Chuck, why are you doing this? Why of all things…this?" The question left her mouth in a whisper as she worked, so soft Chuck almost didn't hear her.

A corner of his mouth flitted upwards in a smile. "You know, I asked myself that a lot when I first got into this mess. I never asked to be a spy, and I certainly never asked to have all the government's secrets in my brain. I went up against Beckman and Graham trying my hardest to get everything back to the way it was. Back to normal." He paused, his eyes flicking to an ambiguous point away from the piercing green stare watching him with intent. "Finally, I looked at everything: my life my job, my relationships, and I asked myself, do I want to be the Nerd Herd supervisor for the rest of my life, or am I called to something greater? Is being this superspy the call I was looking for?"

"But, Chuck, this isn't like the Roark Industries job," Ellie protested, laying a butterfly band-aid over the cut before moving to the deep slice in his eyebrow. "This is a dangerous life. Why couldn't you have settled for normal?"

Chuck quirked another smile, the question taking him back to earlier days. "You know, Tyler Martin, that rockstar who made a promotional appearance at the Buy More, kinda wrestled with the same thing. He unwittingly transported messages to international terrorists by way of his tattoos. We needed him to help out in capturing those terrorists. At first, he refused, saying that this was all over his head, and it was. Because who asks a rockstar barely capable of keeping himself lucid enough to lip-synch prerecorded words to help save the world? It's one act of bravery in exchange for a lifetime of normalcy."

Those deep brown eyes bore pleadingly into a pair sprinkled with jade green. By this time, Ellie had abandoned his minor wounds, just listening as he spoke.

"This is my one act of bravery, Ellie. But it's in exchange for everyone else's normalcy."

Chuck sighed, staring down at his hands. "We were meant to do certain things. You know this, that's why you wanted to be a doctor so bad. I was meant to do this, Ellie. It took awhile for me to figure it out, but this is just something only I can do." He rotated to face Ellie fully. "Settling for normal would mean returning to mediocrity. And settling for normal would mean Sarah would not be in my life. With the Intersect out of my head, she would have been reassigned and sent to some remote place like…Jakarta."

Chuck shrugged. "I tried normal. I got stuck in a place that was taking me nowhere. I'm good at this."

Ellie's head snapped to his, her eyes widening incredulously. "You're good at this?! Chuck…you could be killed. You could be captured. You could be tortured. Someone could find you out, you could…you could…" she trailed off, her mind swirling with possibilities her mouth refused to vocalize for fear of the potential prospects becoming all too surreal.

"Ellie." His strong voice halted her rant. "Would you would stop operating just because you run the risk of also killing the patient you're treating?"

"No," Ellie answered, shaking her head. "Of course not. It's –"

"Part of your job," Chuck finished. "It's part of my job, Ellie. I could just as easily get hit by a bus tomorrow morning and die."

"But Chuck, this is different," Ellie pleaded. "This is you willingly placing yourself in harms way."

"I have a gift," Chuck murmured. "It would be an injustice to not use it. I couldn't live with myself if people suffered because of my selfishness."

Ellie blew out an exasperated sigh. "Why do you have to be so noble?"

Chuck huffed out a semi-humorless chuckle. "Because I had a good role model," he answered. "Because I had a sister who put others before herself and taught me to do the same." He reached out, grasping her hands in his. "Because you and I both know I have too much heart to let things carry on the way they are. Not when we know I can do something about it. I'm a small part of this world, Ellie, and all I'm doing is helping it to be better, one deranged bad guy at a time."

Ellie shook her head, seeing his logic and knowing the truth. Even with her apprehensions, she couldn't help but be proud of her little brother. He was doing something that was greater than anyone could have imagined for him. She looked into his eyes, far from the glittering ebony they once were and back to their normal milky, chocolate warmth.

"How do you do this?" she couldn't help but ask. "How are you able to kill a man in one instant than come home and joke with me or Devon the next?"

Chuck smiled. "Think of it like a comic book. When I'm with the family, I'm Chuck Bartowski, mild-mannered software magnate. Kinda like Clark Kent. When I'm doing the spy stuff, I'm Charles Montgomery, super secret agent of the CIA. Like Superman."

"But even Superman had a weakness," Ellie remarked feebly.

"And I have many," Chuck answered. "You, Devon, Sarah, Casey, Neil, Morgan…You remember when you caught me sneaking Devon's keycard back into his bag? When you thought he had cheated on you at his bachelor party? You said I was supposed to protect you. These secrets in my head cause a lot of collateral damage, and I have a lot of people I care about. But trust me when I say that I am protecting you every day."

Chuck's head dropped down to his chin. "I can't tell you everything, and I'll never truly be able to. To do so would put you in danger, and I can't bring myself to do more than I have to." He reached out, laying one hand over his. "But I will always protect you, and there is no better use of my Supermanly qualities than to keep you and everyone I love safe."

With a final kiss to her forehead, Chuck rose and exited, leaving his sister to her very confused thoughts.

- - -

Chuck rocked back on his heels, anxiously fiddling with his silver cufflinks, waiting for Ellie to arrive. It was the first time in three days that Ellie had initiated contact with him. He had allowed her the space to process the intricacies of everything she had just become privy to. She had meticulously avoided him those three days, not even talking to Sarah, in an obvious attempt to fully sort through the gravity of all that had just been revealed. Finally, after the three days that constituted as a veritable eon to him, Ellie had called, asking him out to lunch. Idling just outside the Traversal building, he fidgeted in place as the familiar car pulled into the parking lot, and she exited, turning towards him. Willing his feet to move, he approached her tentatively, testing out the waters.

"Hey."

Ellie looked her brother up and down. He was dressed in one of the many ensembles that she liked to joke 'channeled Cash,' utilized when he wanted to make a statement, most of the time one of power. And she wasn't sure what was more formidable than her brother's in a black pinstriped suit, black dress shirt, and classic black, gray, and white striped tie. He was imposing, yes. But it served to feed his mogul image. Little did the general population know that under that suit was a gun at the small of his back and throwing knives up his sleeves that gave him that daunting air for a whole different reason.

"Hey."

Chuck let out an unconscious breath. She didn't run away from him. That was a good sign. He shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked towards the café where they would have lunch. "How're you handling all this?"

"Knowing that your gentle-natured brother is actually a gun-toting superspy with a government supercomputer in his brain?" Ellie bobbed her head from side to side in faux contemplation before shrugging sardonically. "Not bad, I guess."

"Good," Chuck murmured, nodding in relief. "That's good."

"I'm still not completely okay with it," Ellie commented.

Chuck quirked a wry smile. "It wouldn't be you if you were."

"So all those times you've mysteriously had to duck out?"

"Missions," Chuck replied simply.

Ellie's head bobbed again, this time in understanding. "It all makes sense now."

"Hindsight _is_ twenty-twenty," Chuck deadpanned.

"And Sarah really doesn't have a spastic colon?"

Chuck's eyes bugged, his mouth dropping open before he broke into hysterical laughter as he remembered the slip. "No. We needed to get away for a mission, and Sarah gave me pretty much no time to make up an excuse. That was the first thing I thought of."

The ice finally broken, Ellie grinned. "I'm surprised she hasn't reamed you out for it."

Chuck smirked. "She doesn't know that's what I came up with."

"Pray that she doesn't," Ellie remarked. "I have a feeling she's much more deadly than you."

Chuck beamed with pride. "She's the best there is."

Ellie couldn't help but mirror his smile at the affection in his voice. Reaching into her purse, she plucked something from the depths, holding it out to him. "Here. I have something for you."

Chuck cocked his head, his hand automatically extended. "What is it?"

Ellie shrugged. "We're not really religious, but Grandpa Irving was. You know how he fought in the Korean War, right?"

Chuck nodded, smirking slightly at one of the happier memories of his childhood with his dad's good-humored, if not slightly curmudgeonly father. "Yeah. That's all he would talk about when we were kids."

"Well, when he died, he left this medallion. I want you to have it."

Chuck glanced down at the necklace as she placed it into his palm. A pair of small, silver ovals hung from a matching chain. The metal had dulled slightly from use, well-loved through time and battered from the war it had endured. He ran his thumb over the man leaning on a staff, a small child on his back with the words "St. Christopher" above the graphic and "Protect us" below it. He looked to the second oval, holding the crest of the United States army with the West Point credo of "Duty, Honor, Country." "St. Christopher?"

"The patron saint of travelers," Ellie answered. "Legend goes that those who trust in St. Christopher will always come back from their travels. It kept Grandpa safe. It brought him back to us. I'm hoping it will do the same to you, too."

Chuck smiled, undoing his tie, loosening the top buttons, and clasping the necklace around his neck. The ovals clinked together merrily. He buttoned up his shirt and retied his tie. There was so much that he wished to say. But there would time for that another time. He settled with as simple as possible.

"Thanks, Ellie."

The pair walked along until they reached the café. Chuck scanned their surroundings, eyes taking in the nuances and details. Everything seemed normal. His eyes flickered slightly as he passed over a man. He groaned, rotated Ellie slightly and walking the other way. Dammit, he spoke too soon.

"Looks like you picked a good day to give me the medallion."

Ellie looked slightly bewildered. "Why?"

"Because about ten feet to your left is an international terrorist who really wants to blow up Dodger Stadium," Chuck muttered, picking up their pace. "Probably some sort of political statement, but I really wouldn't put it past him that he's just a Giants fan."

Ellie's eyes grew wide. "Oh! Uh…okay, I'll just…" She gestured back over her shoulder towards her car.

Chuck looked apologetic, peeking at her through lowered eyelashes. "You gonna be okay?"

Ellie waved him away. "Yeah! Yeah, you do your," Ellie tapped her temple, "thing. I'll be fine."

Chuck scuffed a shoe, looking guilty. "You sure?"

Ellie rolled her eyes, already pulling her keys out of her purse. "Yeah. Go! Rain check."

Chuck quirked a grin. He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek before rotating and jogging back towards the Traversal building. "Thanks, El."

Ellie bit her lip before calling back to her brother, her voice slightly hesitant. "Chuck!"

He halted, swiveling towards her. "Yeah?"

The jade eyes, sprinkled with the Bartowski browns pleaded imploringly at him. "Be careful."

Chuck nodded solemnly. "Always."

With one last reassuring smile, he drew out his phone, punching in a quick number. "Casey? Yeah, we got a situation…" He recoiled back, looking at the device as if it was malfunctioning. "What do you mean 'am I sure?' How the hell can it be less than certain? Yeah, _I'm_ the one with the defective brain…you're just plain defective…" Chuck rolled his eyes, "You've threatened that for five years, Casey, better not stop now."

Ellie watched as her brother loped back to the Traversal building, bickering with John the whole way. She had always known that he was meant for greater things than just a Buy More, but she never thought he would be saving the world. She would never be fully okay with his life. She wasn't idealistic enough to disillusion herself. It terrified her that he was willingly facing down some of the most dangerous men and women in the world. It terrified her that he easily and readily took lives for the ambiguous "greater good." It terrified her that he could very well not come back one day. But was fitting, she supposed.

Even if the world remained completely ignorant of the measures taken to keep freedom safe, she knew. She knew her brother had a gift. She knew he hadn't chosen this life, but he still rose to the occasion. And she was proud. Charles Irving Bartowski was meant more for just a mediocre job and a mediocre life. He was meant for greatness. Now, he had found it.

_And cut! Perhaps the most monstrous chapter I've written, but there was a lot that needed to be addressed. I'm not even sure I covered it all. Hopefully. Next will be the return of Jack Burton as he tries to pull a scam that doesn't quite end up the way he plans. Then, Cole Barker makes an appearance, followed by either your introduction to the youngest child, Shane Bartowski, who gets a bit of a gift on his twelfth birthday, or a certain Fulcrum agent returns to stir some things up. Stay tuned!_

_Roxy_


	13. Sarah vs the Retrieved Reformation

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

**Rating:** _K+_

**Timeline:** _Altered to fit into Season 2 concerning what we know about Sarah's background and combining it to fit with the Parenthood universe established within Sensory Perception. Interspersed throughout "Jack Burton's" lifetime._

**Summary:** _He lived for the con, and it had taken him away from her so many times before. He never came back to the same place twice. But as he stumbles upon a life forged without his influence, he might find a few reasons to stay._

**Alternate Characters:**

_Landon Montgomery, a.k.a. Jack Burton – Sarah's father, born c. 1953_

_Annalisa Montgomery (nee Adams) – Sarah's mother, born c. 1958. Deceased._

The Aliases of Jack Burton

Landon Montgomery – real name (as stated in Sensory Perception).

Ralph Spencer, Mike Dolan, Benjamin Price – used prior to con in Boston, Massachusetts.

James Valentine – initial alias in Boston.

Jack Burton – alias in San Diego

Patrick Sullivan – initial alias in Burbank

Simon Walker – provided by Chuck and Sarah

_Okay, the next installment, and the long-anticipated return of Jack Burton. I hope this is satisfying for everyone, and I kinda modeled this chapter after one of my favorite short stories of all-time: O. Henry's A Retrieved Reformation, as is evident by the title and Jack Burton's various aliases. Look it up if you would like to read it. It is an awesome story._

_Just so no one is confused, I'm not referring to Jack as "Jack" in every scene. He is referred to by the alias that he is using at the time. Make sure you read carefully, I may or may not have inserted a few hints to future happenings within the Parenthood universe. And I hope you like the entrance of the two younger Bartowskis, Grady and Shane as they are going to feature very prominently in future chapters._

_Oh, and I don't know exactly how plausible this is, but I thought it would be funny if Chuck and Sarah conceived a genius…just watch the hijinks. Plus, there' a shout-out to a previous chapter. See if you can spot it! _

**Chapter 12**

_Sarah vs. the Retrieved Reformation_

**BOSTON, MASSACHUSSETTES  
**_1978_

A train rumbled down the tracks, bearing steadily towards its destination. The slide of metal on metal, jarring to the ears, altered future passengers of its impending arrival. The station loomed closer, the dozens of necks craning to catch the distance between the train and their current point. With an almighty sigh, it shuddered to a stop at its designated spot, releasing its burden with a sharp burst of air. The doors parted sharply to release the masses, off to school, work, leisure, whatever the heart desired. The flow of people eventually ebbed and tapered until one singular being was left. With the casual gait of a person with all the time in the world, a fairly tall, leanly-built young man exited the car. Far from the outlandish, flamboyant style of the time, he was dressed in a simple black suit, white shirt, and black tie, the only dash of color in his ensemble in the deep red gardenia pinned to his lapel. His hair, not the long, feathered surfer look so popular in his generation, was short and neat, combed to the side and slicked back. To the naked eye, he looked like an athletic young senior just home from college. He exuded the classic allure of an old Hollywood-type like the Cary Grants or the Clark Gables, confident and assured, a throwback to a more elegant time. Just another face in the crowd, but one that made heads turn as he sauntered to the exit.

To the world, he had been Ralph Spencer. And Mike Dolan. And Benjamin Price. To his dearly departed mother, he was "Baby Boy." To his regretfully living father, he was the "Bastard." To Boston, he was just James Valentine. Just another name in his very extensive catalogue, just another identity to serve his purpose. His real name held no merit, had no sentimental value. It was just the name that signaled his initial existence in the world.

James Valentine stepped out into the sunshine of Boston, looking to make his mark on Bean Town. A good con man could leave whenever he wanted, and James was planning on staying until he was good and rich. He grasped the handle of his suitcase, eyes searching for his target of his latest job. He strolled down the streets of Boston, eyes taking in the sights. Hmmm, Fenway Park. He had always liked the Red Sox. Celtics, too. There was such great talent in this town, ready for potential to uncover it. And if there was one thing James Valentine had, it was a whole lot of potential. But, first thing was first. He was _starving_.

James inched his way through the sparsely crowded café, trying to make his way to the tables situated outside when his shoulder bumped into another person, sending her things and the sandwich precariously balanced on her plate tumbling to the floor.

James immediately dropped to his knees, helping her pick up the mess he had inadvertently caused. "Oh, excuse me…"

His eyes floated up, and he drew in a sharp breath as he was met with a face unlike one he had ever seen before, one that radiated pure beauty and loveliness. One that would set sail Helen's thousand ships and then some.

"No, it was my fault. I tend to be a bit clumsy."

Southern. She was southern. Her melodic voice had the light lilt from Texas. Or maybe Louisiana. Or maybe one of the Carolinas. Either way, it was beautiful. _She_ was beautiful. Long, golden hair cascading down in waves. Legs that went on to eternity supporting a tall, slender frame. A graceful swanlike neck that led down to a pair of firm, supple…No. Don't go there, man. He may be a scoundrel but his mother taught him to be a gentleman. He looked up into a pair of bold, blue eyes that seemed to sparkle like veritable sapphires.

"No, let me pay for another one," James insisted. "It's the least I can do."

She smiled, and he swallowed hard. His heart stopped. His breath halted in his throat. The heavens opened up and the angels sang. Okay…maybe they didn't, but in that moment, James Valentine forgot who he was – or, more accurately, who he was pretending to be.

"Sure."

She tucked a strand of that golden hair behind her ear, and he was mesmerized at its color and texture, following its path as it meandered down her ear and tumbled down her shoulder. She looked good, he decided. Real good. She was dressed professionally, with a burnt orange skirt that reached just to her knees in the flared, pleated cut popular to the masses. A light brown blouse, the cuffs puffing out slightly, lay beneath an argyle sweater tank top and a pair of brown pumps completed her look. She must be a working girl, he decided. Out to lunch for the day.

"Would you care to join me?"

James smiled, following her lead to a table. "I would love to."

"Are you new to town? I don't believe I've seen you around."

He only chuckled. "Boston's pretty big. I could very easily be lost in the shuffle."

She simply shrugged. "I see a good amount of Boston come in and out on a daily basis." She hitched a thumb back to the bank. "I'm good with faces."

She must be a teller, James gleaned. That could work for him.

"Well then, yeah. I'm new here," James conceded. "Just back from finishing my Master's degree in business management at Georgetown."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah," James answered. "Went to college up there in DC, and stayed for a few years working and earning some money." James swirled his straw around his drink. "Just looking for some options for a job. I was thinking of checking out the bank. I've got some experience in the system."

"I know Daddy was looking for someone to take one of the managerial positions for awhile," she offered. "There aren't that many candidates that have the qualifications needed."

"D-daddy?" James choked on the word.

"Oh, how rude of me. I haven't introduced myself." The goddess in front of him extended a hand. "Annalisa Adams. My father works as an executive."

"As in a pretty high up position," James remarked.

"That would be correct." Annalisa cocked her head, a mischievous glint to her eyes. "Intimidated?"

James ran a hand through his hair. "A bit, yeah."

Annalisa laughed, the sound permeating through his very core and bubbling in the pit of his stomach. "And you are?"

He warred with himself. What was such a simple question to the even simplest of beings, was a loaded one for him. He could say James Valentine, Ralph Spencer, Benjamin Price, any of his former aliases…but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to form the words. It was as though his inner conscience was berating him in a way it never had before.

"Hello?" She waved a hand in front of his face, an amused smirk to her lips.

James started. Wow, he must really have looked like an imbecile in that moment of contemplation. If she thought so, she didn't look like it. She was merely looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to reciprocate. He opened his mouth and almost involuntarily, the name he hadn't used in almost ten years rolled through his vocal cords and off his tongue.

"Landon. Landon Montgomery."

- - -

METROPOLITAN CORRECTIONAL CENTER  
**San Diego, California  
**_1998_

Jack Burton leaned forward in his seat to prop his elbows on the cold metal table before him. His hands and feet were shackled, ensuring his detention. He was clothed from head to toe in orange, a number stitched across the breast. Jack sighed. Jack Henry Burton, born August 14, 1954 in Virginia to a postal service worker and a stay-at-home mom. His identity for San Diego. He would be this identity for quite a time. For the next ten to fifteen years, at least, but that was fine with him. Landon Montgomery had died the day Annalisa had succumbed to leukemia. He had gone straight since that very first day, determined to be honest for her. If she was going to like him, it would be the real him. Not some facsimile, not some fabrication. Him. Landon Montgomery.

His life as Landon Montgomery seemed all the more surreal to him. It had seemed so perfect, so flawless. For so long, he had lived the life of reckless nomad, wandering wherever the wind blew him, assuming the identity of whatever persona tickled his fancy at the moment. All that changed the moment he looked into a pair of stunning sapphire spheres. He found a person he could be for a good while. He found a reason to settle in one spot. Landon Montgomery was not a romantic by any means. He had seen too much, had experienced more than his share of things that would turn a nun cynical. But in her eyes, he found something that had been missing from his life: hope, optimism, and more importantly, a future. Their courtship and romance had been a whirlwind of passion and love that had sprung just as quickly as they had met. Their first date had been adorably awkward as he had no idea how to act around her, trying much too hard to impress her. She had called him on it, loosening the tension by pushing him into a bush when he had tried to play it smooth. Their first kiss had been absolute fireworks, a stolen moment when he had mustered enough courage to lean in. It had taken a bit, but her father loved him, appreciating his cultured mannerisms and extensive knowledge of fine wines. They had their fairy tale wedding and a year later, a blonde bundle of joy they had named Kathleen Lisa Montgomery came into their lives. They had lived the wonderful life, full of laughter and love.

It was perfect.

It didn't last.

Everything changed when she was diagnosed. They needed money. And a lot of it. So they got money in the best way he knew how. It didn't work. It only delayed the inevitable. So when Annalisa Montgomery took her last, final, breath, a declaration of love for her husband and daughter, Landon and Kathleen Montgomery ceased to exist once more. All that was left was Richard and Rebecca Franco. And Kevin and Katie O'Connell. And the thousands of other personas they had adopted. The only thing left of his old life was his baby girl. His Angel Hair. His Darlin'. A spitting image of Annalisa from the bold blue eyes down to that mischievous look that perpetually graced her face. That look was gone now. It had been replaced by the uncertainty of adolescence that came with the throes of puberty. But he knew this was just temporary. She was her mother's daughter. She would grow to be just as beautiful as Annalisa was.

He leaned back in his seat. Waiting. He would be waiting a good, long while. There was very little else to do where he was. Waiting to get out, waiting for the next day. His ears perked up as the steady cacophony of footfalls grew closer, the cadence wavering from the even, crisp gait of the wardens, to the long, commanding strides of a man of authority, to the lazy, shuffles of a despondent teenager. He glanced up as the cell doors opened, and the frizzy-locked head of his daughter appeared in the doorway. She tentatively approached, wary of the guards that stood stationed at the exit, and sank down into the chair across from him.

Jack shot out his charm smile, more of a reassurance to both himself and his daughter than anything. "Hey, Darlin'."

"Hey, Dad." Jenny eyed him up and down, taking in his appearance. His hair now showed a shock of gray at the temples and his eyes were a bit haggard. Jack Burton had lost a bit of the ersatz vivacity since the loss of her mother, but he tried. Lord knows he tried.

"You gonna be okay in here?"

"Don't worry about me, Angel Hair," Jack assured his daughter. "I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve." He eyed her closely. "I'm more worried about you. You gonna be alright?"

Jenny nodded. "I'll be fine, Dad. Graduated high school okay. I'm going to college in the fall. Probably somewhere nice…"

Jack quirked an eyebrow. "Like?"

"Harvard…" Jenny vaguely demurred.

Jack whistled. "Impressive, Darlin'. How'd you manage that?"

Jenny's smirk mirrored her father's. "Natural intelligence…and a bit of help."

The sound of his Darlin' returning so close to their home seized his heart, but he knew this would be closure to his daughter, a chance to surely become the woman she was meant to be.

Jack smiled. "You do what you need to do, baby girl. Don't you worry about your old man. I'll be alright."

"I know you will."

She fell silent, receding back to her thoughts. Jack watched as she fiddled with the necklace around her neck. She was thinking about something. He could tell. He might not have been the best father, but he knew how to read his daughter.

"Jenny…?"

She started, her stare shifting back to his. He looked into those bold blue eyes and saw them flicker with an unknown gleam before hiding behind a steely gaze. He didn't like to admit it, but she learned that from him. No one would ever be able to fully read a Burton. It was one of the more definitive talents they possessed.

"It's nothing. Just scared of what's gonna happen," she confessed. "It seems like I'm starting all over. Like I'm becoming a new person."

Jack smiled. "You are, Darlin'. You're becoming even better than ever, and when I get out of this joint…" Jack smirked. "_You_ and _I_ are gonna be better than ever."

Jenny smiled sadly, reaching over to place her hand over her father's, ignoring the cool, slick metal of the handcuffs adorning his wrists. Nothing had ever been the same since Mom died. She felt as though the relationship between her and her father was as disconnected as ever, but if they had one thing they shared, it was the con.

"I love you, Daddy."

Jack Burton returned her smile. For all his foibles, for all his flaws, he truly loved his daughter. And although he had a rather distorted way of showing it, the pure affection was there. He squeezed her hand back, relishing in the contact for the last time in a long time. He knew she wouldn't be back. Not that he wouldn't ever find her. But this was the last time Jennifer Burton would be around these parts for a good long while.

"Love you, too, Angel Hair."

TRAVERSAL INDUSTRIES HEADQUARTERS  
**Burbank, California  
**_2018_

Patrick Sullivan was a man dressed for success. The most important part of this con was looking the part. He didn't have the degree, the, or the knowledge of technology actually needed for this type of work, but he had the look. And he had the silver tongue that could make his target believe he actually knew what he was doing. It was the same silver tongue that had given him so much success in his given occupation. He had the ability to persuade, to cajole. He could read people, gauge their facial expressions and body language, could glean their likes and dislikes, and use all that information to his advantage.

Patrick Sullivan stepped out of the revolving door and cast a precursory glance at his surroundings. All around him, people bustled, going one way then the next as each second poured more money into their pockets and the pockets of the investors. This was the look of the leading technological supplier in the world. This was the look of his latest con.

Patrick readied himself for his mission, smoothing his hair back and nudging the thick, square-framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose. He buttoned the jacket to his gray, windowpane-patterned, three-piece suit and straightened the crimson tie around his neck. One final adjustment of his cufflinks, and he picked up his briefcase, ready to go.

Striding up to the receptionist, he smiled charmingly. "Good morning, miss. I have an appointment with Mr. Montgomery."

"Name, please?"

Patrick leaned an elbow against the desk. "Patrick Sullivan."

The young woman nodded, glancing down at screen. The name registered, and she reached over to dial an extension. "Yes, hi, Joyce. I have Mr. Montgomery's eleven o'clock waiting here in the lobby." She nodded once more, hanging up the phone and addressing the man on the other side of the desk. "Mr. Montgomery's assistant will be down in a minute to escort you up."

Patrick inclined his head. "Thank you very much."

He meandered towards the waiting area, easing down into a chair, noting its comfortable squishiness. Propping his ankle on his opposite knee, he fiddled with the heavy ring adorning his right hand as he fully absorbed the Traversal Industries building. It was certainly one of the nicest he had been in with the large television screens advertising the company's latest products blaring throughout the area and the glaring logo mounted above the reception desk. He set his briefcase on the floor and mentally went over the dossier he had compiled about the company, went over the numbers and facts. He looked down at the name of the founder, Charles Montgomery. There wasn't much information about the man, besides what the media knew for sure. He didn't often do interviews, but when he did it was for major, national publications. He had a wife and two kids, but even that information had been kept slightly vague.

"Mr. Sullivan?"

Patrick glanced up to find a young man striding towards him, hand outstretched, and he rose from his seat.

"Neil Grayson, Mr. Montgomery's assistant."

Patrick pumped the offering strongly. "Pleasure."

"No, sir, the pleasure's all mine." The boyish face split into an enthusiastic grin. "Mr. Montgomery's very excited about your pitch. It would completely innovate the technology world and place TI leaps and bounds above the competition."

Patrick only smirked, mirroring the gesture as he grasped a lens of his glasses and securing it further up his nose. "That's the plan."

They entered the private elevator, accessible only when Neil punched in a code and swiped a card. "Mr. Montgomery's office is on the top floor. He'll meet you up there."

Patrick nodded. "How long have you been working for Mr. Montgomery?"

"Since he started TI," Neil answered proudly, playing up the part of the enthusiastic assistant, hugging the leather-bound folder bearing the Traversal Industries logo to his chest. "I was one of the first people he hired. It was surely an amazing opportunity for a kid just out of college."

Patrick smiled inwardly. Eager young man, grateful to his boss for an opportunity. That type of loyalty would be easy to influence, especially under the pretense of benefiting Montgomery. Time for the kill. "What's he like? I've read things about him, but the press can exaggerate a bit."

Little did he know, Neil Grayson shifted his eyes up towards where a camera was hidden in the corner of the elevator, knowing a certain two people were watching with barely concealed amusement. He nudged the square, rimless frames up his nose and smiled.

"Well, let me be the first one to say that Mr. Montgomery is brilliant. Very focused, very driven. He knows the ins and outs off all of the products and technology manufactured and has had his hand in every single one of them. There isn't a mind like Charles Montgomery's. But, I have to admit…" Neil hesitated as though he wasn't sure if he should indulge his knowledge. Obviously making a concession, he continued.

"That brilliance comes with a price," Neil admitted. "He gets so caught up in whatever he's developing that he tends to forget that business doesn't stop once the product's created. He forgets the financial end and the marketing end. He'd forget to cash the check if the finance department didn't remind him."

Patrick's eyes twinkled with the information, and he fought to keep the pleased smile from bursting on his face. Yes, this would be quite the job, quite the job indeed.

The elevator shuddered to a halt, and Neil ushered Patrick out. Neil turned the corner, nodding to the pretty brunette receptionist as she waved at him, fielding a call from an unknown source. If at all possible, the executive level of Traversal Industries was even more impressive than the lobby. With its high ceilings, dark mahogany accents, and large windows allowing the sunlight to stream in, it was as beautiful as a building could get. Patrick couldn't help but break his professionalism, his head swiveling to try and take in the entirety of the amazing settings before the pair stopped in front of a lavish glass door. Neil smiled, gesturing with a hand.

"Mr. Montgomery will meet you inside."

Patrick inclined his head in thanks as Neil rotated slightly, disappearing into an office not too far down the hall. Patrick looked to the door, the smoky design concealing the depths inside, barring any sight inside to the depths where the company's founder and brains operated the business that yielded the amazing profits. He drew in a deep breath, psyching himself up. A nudge of the spectacles, a wiggle of his tie, and a tug on the jacket, and he pushed open the door.

Charles Montgomery stood behind his desk, his back to the door. All six feet, three inches of him loomed over his position, staring out the large windows that paneled the back wall of his office, his hands clasped at his back. A genuine king lording over the subjects below.

The man looked like a veritable deity, the mid morning sun bathing his tall, lean frame in a radiance that seemed to come straight from the heavens, giving his shape a slight glow, the broad shoulders and trim, athletic build giving him an ethereal brilliance. He rotated slowly and Patrick's eyes raked appraisingly over the expensive, designer, three-button suit. The material hung expertly tailored over the figure, the pale silver pinstripes barely visible against the black. A deep plum dress shirt hugged the chest, immaculately pressed, and the matching tie was in a tasteful grid pattern with a handkerchief of the same color peeking out of the breast pocket. All in all, the picture perfect example of the commanding business man. His eyes drifted up to the face. The powerful face that had graced magazine covers and revolutionized technology. The face that was worth billions of dollars. The face that looked…insanely familiar. He paused.

"Ch-Charlie?"

Sure enough, that face split into the goofy grin he recognized so readily, almost out of place on the professional visage that had changed since the last time he had seen him. "Jack."

Patrick Sullivan, better known to the man before him as Jack Burton, shook himself from his slight stupor. "Wh…what are you doing here?"

A corner of the mouth slid upwards, lopsided in its appearance, but betraying a hint of wry amusement. "Working."

"A job?"

Chuck inclined his head, his hands sliding easily into his trouser pockets. "You could say that." He motioned to the briefcase. "You?"

Jack spread his hands, completely unashamed. "Just doing what I do best, Charlie. A lowly con man making his wares in the world."

"Ah," Chuck drawled. "This must be a Jack Burton special." He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let me guess. You make an initial pitch to TI, boasting about a product that would completely put the tech world on its end and punt the company so far in front of its competitors Apple and Microsoft _combined_ would still fall a distant second. You demand a deposit fee for your work, something in the area of, oh, five million dollars saying that the payoff and profit will be more than hundreds of times that amount. Montgomery, seeing the potential of the product and too blind with greed to see anything else, pays. He sets up a team, marketing strategy, etc, and by the time he realizes there's no plan, no product, and more importantly, no profit, you're long gone with the five million." Chuck smirked, cocking his head.

"How close was I?"

Jack's jaw sagged slightly. Damn. The schnook had recited his plan almost to the letter. He couldn't be getting predictable, could he? He perished the thought from his mind and returned the smirk, shrugging unabashedly.

"Pretty close."

Chuck laughed. "I thought so."

Jack rotated, glancing back to the door. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, Charlie, but I'm meeting Montgomery at eleven, and I don't want to be late."

Chuck smiled and lifted his arm, eyes flicking down to the face of his watch. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. You were about five minutes early when you walked in." He crossed over to the back of the desk, settling into the chair. "Now, you're right on time."

Jack's eyes narrowed as he witnessed the lofty frame recline back in the seat, feet propped up on the surface not littered with plans. Chuck watched as the wheels in Jack's sharp mind turned, the pieces finally clicking into place.

"You-_you're_ Montgomery?"

"Got it in one, Jack." Chuck fought hard to contain his glee. He drummed his fingers atop his stomach. "Chuck Bartowski just doesn't flow off the tongue very well, does it? Charles Montgomery seems a bit more dignified. Much better fit for my purposes."

Jack didn't respond, only working to appease this new information with what he had compiled in his mind. Well…this would not do at all…

Chuck's voice tore him from his ruminations. "So, Mr.…" Chuck glanced down at the folder on his desk, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, "Sullivan, what have you got for me?"

Jack inclined his head, humoring the younger man. "That seems to be a moot point, doesn't it?"

Chuck grinned. "We'll call it a formality."

Jack chuckled. He looked around the luxurious office, taking in the decor. "This sure is a step up from a Buy More, Charlie."

"It suits my purposes," Chuck remarked lightly.

"So how does a guy go from making twelve dollars an hour at a Buy More to billions of dollars at the world's leading technological supplier?"

Chuck only smiled. Swinging his legs from the desktop to the floor, he stood, buttoning his jacket. "You know what, Jack, why don't we get some food? You know, catch up a bit? I haven't taken my lunch break and I'm absolutely starving." He rotated slightly, grabbing the expensive-looking leather messenger bag from a stand by his desk. "You like Italian?"

Jack hesitated, slightly bemused at the seemingly _non sequitur_, and blinked as he rose hesitantly to his feet. "Yeah, I could go for Italian."

Chuck's smile widened as he shouldered the bag. "Alright, let's go. I know a great place about a block away from the building."

Jack could only follow as the taller man strode towards the hallway. He stopped at another luxurious office, popping his head in the doorway. Jack recognized Neil, the young assistant, sitting behind the desk, fielding calls and furiously scribbling in what seemed to be a massive day planner.

"Hey, I'm gonna take a break for lunch. You want anything from Mario's?"

Neil righted his head, allowing the phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear to drop to his palm. "Depends. Who's cooking tonight?"

Chuck smirked, knowing the Bartowski-Casey-Grayson clan vastly preferred his wife's cooking over his. "She is."

"What?"

"I think pot roast."

"Then no. With the vegetables she normally cooks with them?" Neil's eyes glazed over with pleasure, and he made an audible humming noise. "I'm gearing up. No need to fill up unnecessarily." His eyes shifted to Chuck's companion, and he shot out an impish smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Burton."

"Likewise," Jack murmured, scratching his head slightly. It looked as though his ruse was only such to him.

Chuck turned his head towards the office opposite Neil's, knowing its occupant heard the entire conversation. "Casey?"

"No, thanks!" came the gruff response.

"Looks like it's just you and me, Jack." Chuck motioned with his head, calling back over his shoulder to the two men they were leaving behind. "Dinner's at seven!"

- - -

Chuck and Jack stepped out into the bright sunlight of the afternoon, Chuck navigating the streets of downtown Burbank with ease. He stopped at an expensive-looking café, breezing through the crowded masses waiting and straight to the concierge who greeted him with a hearty handshake. Completely bypassing the people waiting, they were led to a secluded table that overlooked the city.

Jack watched in fascination as the man across from him shucked the jacket, loosened his tie and collar, deftly popped the cufflinks from their slots, and folded his sleeves up to his elbows. He ruffled his hair a bit, releasing the strands from their stylized spikes to tumble more naturally atop his head. The pretense of powerful businessman discarded as swiftly as the jacket had been, Chuck Bartowski made his appearance. Jack watched as he shook hands with their waiter, the familiarity obvious, absently brushing a wayward strand from where it flopped down onto his forehead.

"So I gather you've done well for yourself, Charlie."

Chuck laughed and nodded, taking a sip from his water glass. "It took awhile. I had some things I had to get over before I could be successful."

Jack huffed out a matching laugh. "Guess I can't call you 'Schnook' anymore."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Chuck smiled indulgently. "I'm still a schnook outside of the whole Traversal business. Still got my video games and Star Wars Monopoly set. This," he waved a hand, vaguely encompassing the whole of what he had accrued, "it's really all just window dressing."

He let out a large sigh as the waiter returned, plopping a water glass before him and slumped down slightly. Drinking deeply, he loosened the knot of his tie even more. "Wow, that feels so much better."

Jack smiled. "Not liking the monkey suit?"

Chuck grinned sheepishly. "I always feel so uncomfortable in them," he admitted. "If I had my way, I'd be doing business in a pair of Chuck Taylor sneakers, jeans, and a t-shirt but unfortunately, image is just as important in this business, so I got vetoed." "Pretty definitively, actually."

As Jack laughed, Chuck let out a humph, "I don't get it. When it comes to my work, I'm not questioned. I get advice, I tinker, but everyone trusts me to make the right decision. But when it comes to my wardrobe, I'm scrutinized within the littlest minute detail."

Jack shook his head. "Aw, harsh life, little multi-billionaire…"

Chuck snorted out his own laugh. "I know, right? Who am I to complain?"

Jack eyed him closely. "You still taking care of my Darlin'?"

Chuck's lips tilted upward in an enigmatic smile. "More than you know…"

Jack smiled indulgently, lofting his drink in an idle toast. "That's all I ask."

Chuck smiled right back. "Why don't you stop by the house for dinner? We're having pot roast, and trust me, you haven't tasted pot roast until you've tasted a Bartowski pot roast."

Jack's eyes widened for a moment, unsure of the "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose."

Chuck dismissed the claim with a wave of his hand. "Please. Casey's an imposition. You're welcome anytime."

- - -

Chuck returned to the house about an hour before dinner, Jack in tow. He opened the front door, making his way to the kitchen where Sarah was busy putting the finishing touches on their meal.

"Hey, babe!" Chuck greeted. "You have a good day at work."

Sarah didn't answer, only continued chopping the vegetables a bit too aggressively for someone in a content mood.

Chuck cocked an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a no…"

Sarah slammed down her knife with a decidedly disgruntled expression. "Willy-Boy, excuse me, _William_, simply does not take a hint!"

Chuck tried to direct her attention to their guest. "Uh, Sar–"

Sarah continued as though he hadn't spoken. "I swear, if that man does not realize that the rings on my finger are indeed real, he will experience first hand exactly why the diamond is the hardest stone in existence!"

Once again, Chuck tried to derail her rather escalating rant. However, Sarah on a rampage was quite the force of nature. "Honey…"

"I mean, he doesn't need his penis, right?" Sarah posed rhetorically. "It'll be for the betterment of the world if he doesn't procreate, right?"

"Babe," Chuck ventured weakly.

"You know what, let's not talk about William anymore." Sarah swiveled to her husband, a sultry leer adorning her features as she slid her arms around his neck. "I haven't seen you all day." Before Chuck could react, she pulled him down, sealing her mouth over his. As per usual, Chuck forgot everything else but his wife, his grip tightening around her waist as he deepened the kiss.

From beside them, Jack cleared his throat, his amusement evident in the cocked eyebrow and smirk. Suddenly aware of the third party, Sarah broke away from Chuck, her eyes wide as she registered her father standing a mere three feet away form them.

"Dad!"

"Darlin'…" Jack responded dryly.

"You're…here," she stammered incredulously.

"Does seem that way, doesn't it?""

Sarah rotated sharply to her husband, fixing him with an accusing glare. "And he came with you."

Gathering his bearings, Chuck backed up away from her reach knowing that Sarah's fists had a proclivity to impact with various parts of his body when she was irritated. "Hey, I tried to warn you, but someone's rant didn't let me get a word in edgewise."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," Jack interrupted the impending argument with raised hands. "Let me get this straight," he pointed to Chuck. "You _married_ my daughter?" For the first time, Jack's eyes caught the flat platinum band adorning Chuck's third finger of his left hand, matching the wedding set on Sarah's perfectly, and one eyebrow shot skyward.

Chuck shrugged unapologetically. "You told me to take care of her…"

Jack smirked. "Well, I knew that ten million-dollar bet was worth something, I just didn't know what." His smirk widened. "So when am I gonna expect some grandkids to spoil?"

Chuck and Sarah exchanged a glance as Chuck scratched the back of his neck, barking out a stuttering laugh. "Funny you should mention that, Jack."

As if on cue, the front door opened and slammed, a pair of sneakers slapping against the wood of the foyer as a distinct, high-pitch voice sounded through the house. Jack turned to find a beautiful little girl with dark chocolate curls rushing into the room.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

"Hey, Tigger!" Chuck scooped up his daughter into his arms, propping her on one hip in a gesture that screamed familiarity. He accepted the smacking kiss of greeting to his cheek as a pair of small arms threw themselves around his neck. Jack smiled at the softness gracing his son-in-law's eyes. He recognized that glint. It was the glint of a very proud parent.

"How was ballet?"

The girl in his arms shrugged, wrinkling her nose slightly. "Monica Russo made fun of Jessica Conner."

Chuck quirked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Someone found herself without a tutu when we were doing pirouettes across the floor," Maddie stated matter-of-factly.

Chuck looked nonplussed. "Maddie!"

"Aw, c'mon, Daddy, _I_ didn't do anything _bad_…"

Chuck only cocked an eyebrow. "So then who'd you charm into doing it for you?"

"Aw, nuts," Maddie grumbled. "Nicole Green," she conceded with a sigh.

"And what have I told you about being a bad girl?"

"'If you're gonna do somethin' bad, at least do it yourself…'" Maddie recited.

"Before that," Chuck corrected.

"'Even though I'm pee-d'sposed to do bad things try not to do them…'" Maddie hung her head. "Sorry, Daddy. I won't do it again."

As she turned those wide, baby blue eyes on him, Chuck couldn't hold his anger. Vaguely, he mused that power she had over him was gonna get him in trouble one of those days. "You still love me right?"

"Always, kiddo." He craned his neck back towards the foyer. "Where's your brother?"

Timing it perfectly, the sound of a human voice mimicking a plane's engine resonated through the house and two figures emerged from the foyer. Jack caught sight of a tall, athletic man, his All-American good looks prevalent in the blonde hair and blue eyes, holding a young boy aloft, the dark-haired child's arms outstretched as he 'flew' across the room. As the boy caught sight of Sarah, his eyes lit up and his arms dropped to his sides.

"Mama! Mama!"

The young boy scrambled from the blonde man's arms to Sarah, who caught him deftly.

"There's my big boy! Did you have a good time with your Uncle Awesome?"

The brunette nodded solemnly. "Yes, Mama."

"What did you do?"

"We-ll. First Uncle Awesome took me to the park. Then he helped me with my baseball. I got to swing the bat! I hit the ball, too, Mama!"

Sarah smiled, impulsively kissing Landon's cheek. "Looks like you had a lot of fun."

"Uh-huh!" The boy's eyes crossed as a handful of his locks fell over his forehead, and he shook his head to clear his eyesight.

Sarah ran a loving hand over her boy's straight strands, smiling indulgently. "Looks like you're gonna need a haircut soon, bud. Your hair's starting to look like the Australian bush."

Landon wrinkled his nose, wriggling slightly to escape his mother's rather insistent grasp. "Aw, but Mama, I wanna look like Daddy in those old pictures."

Sarah laughed, tapping her son's nose. "Baby, you look exactly like your father. You don't need to have animal shapes on your head."

Landon cocked his head in slight confusion and hefted a heavy sigh. "Fine. Can I get a haircut like Uncle Morgan's then?"

Sarah pressed a kiss to his forehead, contemplating the idea for a bit. Eh, he was a kid. They were allotted wacky hairstyles every once in awhile. Plus, he would probably look adorable with the faux-hawk. She shook her head in a conciliatory gesture. "Sure, bud."

Landon pumped a fist. "Yes!"

Sarah turned to her brother-in-law, greeting him with a kiss to his cheek. She gestured over to Jack.

"Devon, this is my father."

"Whoa! I finally get to meet the man who sired the temple of beauty and grace that is Sarah. Awesome!" He stuck out a hand. "Devon Woodcomb. Nice to meet you, Mr. Walker."

"Pleasure's all mine, son."

Sarah hefted Landon higher on her hip. "Thanks for watching them, Devon."

"Aw, no problemo, sis," Devon waved off the thanks, his wide grin melting from cheek to cheek. "It's good to stretch the Uncle muscle every once in awhile. Gotta keep it strong." Devon jumped as his pager went off, the shrill succession of beeps almost jarring in the warm atmosphere. Unclipping the pager from his back pocket, he frowned down at the numbers on the screen. "Whoa, I gotta go. Five car pileup, looks like a John Doe's got his heart thumping through his ribs…"

"Gruesome." Sarah wrinkled her nose, waving him off as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, delivered a gentle jab to Landon's arm, ruffled Maddie's curls, and slapped five with Chuck before rushing out the door.

Maddie, whose attention had been fixated on the third adult in the room when her Uncle Awesome had noticed him, tugged on her father's collar. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, Tigger?"

She gestured to Jack with a hitch of her head. "Whossat?"

"This is your Grandpa," he answered.

Landon's brow furrowed in confusion, joining in on the conversation. "We already have Pop Pop," he remarked, referring to their Grandpa Stephen.

Sarah shook her head. "No, bud, that's Daddy's daddy. This is my daddy."

"Oh…So he's like Poppa Woody to Auntie Ellie?" Landon asked.

Sarah nodded, pleased with her son's powers of deduction. "Yes, baby, he's like Poppa Woody."

Maddie tugged once again on her father's collar, urging him forward to her grandfather. She stuck out a hand. "Hello, sir, I am Madeline Eleanor Bartowski."

Landon followed suit. "And I'm Landon Charles Bartowski. Pleasure to meet you, sir."

Jack shook the offerings with amusement. "Pleased to meet you both."

- - -

Dinner was a decidedly muted affair with Sarah slightly in shock at the presence of her father, and the men engrossed in their food. Later in the evening with Neil and Casey already departed, Jack stayed back to help Sarah load the dishes while Chuck gave the kids their bath. The pair worked in silence for awhile with Sarah rinsing and Jack loading the dishwasher. As the final plate was loaded into the machine, Sarah rotated to her father, her eyes betraying the skepticism rightly veiled behind the blue spheres.

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

Jack cleared his throat, leaning against the counter. "Well, you see…"

Sarah's eyes narrowed, one hand finding her hip. "What job were you working?"

Jack chuckled uneasily. "You know, Darlin' it's funny you mention that."

Sarah threw her head back in exasperation as the became painfully clear. "Oh my God!" Her stare turned accusing. "You were going to try and con Chuck, weren't you?"

"Oh, c'mon, Sarah!" Jack protested. "I didn't know it was Charlie!"

"Dad!"

"I didn't!" he insisted. "I swear!"

"So you didn't come back for me," Sarah edified slowly. "You came back for a job."

The hurt was palpable in her voice, and Jack stopped short. "Sarah, honey…"

"I should have known," Sarah muttered more to herself than anyone else. "You always cared more about your schemes than you did me. I shouldn't have expected that to change."

"Sarah…"

She held up a hand, the hurt finally worming its way up to the surface after being suppressed for so long. "No, Dad. I resigned myself to who you were a long time ago." She drew in a deep breath. "Good to see I wasn't disappointed."

Chuck entered the kitchen as Sarah exited, looking at her over his shoulder as she disappeared up the stairs to the kids' room. He didn't have to ask to know what happened. He exhaled deeply, knowing she needed a few minutes to herself and turned an apologetic glance to Jack.

"Uh, don't mind her Jack. She's just working through some childhood issues…"

Jack's eyes strayed back to the spot he had seen her last. "She's not gonna speak to me for awhile, is she?"

Chuck sighed, glancing over to where his wife had stormed off. He shrugged slightly in a conciliatory gesture. "You know as well as I do how long Sarah can hold a grudge, Jack."

The elder man nodded sagely. "She's stubborn," he remarked. "Just like her mother."

Jack glanced over at his son-in-law. "I'm not gonna disillusion myself in thinking I was a good father," he admitted. "I know I wasn't. I probably hurt her more than I helped her." His eyes strayed over to his daughter. "But I always loved her. Even if I didn't know how to show it."

"She knows that, Jack."

"It's times like these where I wish that she still had her mother," Jack commented. "Annalisa…she was always good at that kind of stuff. Me, I can't talk too well about feelings. Anna, though, she could make the most tight-lipped person spill as though he had a hole in him. Sarah would have been able to tell her all the things she wouldn't tell me."

"She turned out all right," Chuck reminded him.

"Well, she's got her mother's spirit," Jack remarked. "No matter how messed up I made her, in the end, she's got the heart of gold of her mother. She's quite the girl."

"Yeah," Chuck agreed. "She really is…" He started slightly as he remembered something and strode to his bag. "I have something for you."

Jack accepted the folder passed to him and opened it to find a picture of himself staring right back at him attached to a profile. In the adjacent pocket was a birth certificate, Social Security card, driver's license, and passport. He looked at the name adorning all of the documents, eyes scrutinizing them carefully. If it was all fake, they were all very convincing.

"Simon Walker," he mused reading out the name.

"If you ever want a life not running, there you go," Chuck said, hitching a head to the documents. "It's legitimate, so if you ever want to go straight, this will help you."

Jack looked from the documents to his son-in-law. "How'd you get all this?"

Chuck shrugged. "I have friends in high places. They owed me a few favors."

Jack didn't quite know how to respond to what Chuck had given him, so he settled with the simplest way possible. "Thank you."

Chuck nodded. "Sure."

Jack stayed silent for a moment, feeling out of place in the homey family setting. Clearing his throat, he pointed a thumb in the vague direction of the front door. "I, uh, I should get going…"

"No goodbye?" Chuck asked, hitching a head upstairs.

Jack thought about it for a second before he shook his head. "It's best if I don't."

Chuck nodded. "Okay. Just think about it, Jack. A good con man might be able to leave whenever he wishes, but a man gone straight can _stay_ for as long as he wants."

Jack smiled tightly, nodding once before climbing into his rental car and speeding away.

Chuck watched him depart before glancing slightly over his shoulder. "You can come out now, he's gone."

Sarah's head peeked out from where she had been hiding, slightly sheepish that Chuck had known she was there. Either he had gotten infinitely better or she really was getting soft.

Chuck smiled as though he knew where her thoughts were going. "You know you really can't hide from me."

"And I was afraid I was getting soft," she answered.

"Nah, I'm just that good at knowing where you are." He noticed Sarah's attention fixated where Jack had departed and slung an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into an embrace.

"He'll be back."

Just as she had before, Sarah mournfully shook her head. "No, he won't."

"He's got a couple of reasons now," he reminded her.

Sarah sighed. "I hope so, Chuck. I hope so."

BARTOWSKI MANSION  
**Burbank, California  
**_2031_

A man approached the door to the mansion. It was easy enough to gain entry when the codes hadn't been changed for fifteen years. Either that or a steady rotation had brought the combination back full circle. He didn't think too heavily on it. How he got it wasn't important. The fact he was here was. His hair was a bit grayer, his eyes a bit more tired, a few more wrinkles showing up on his weathered, handsome face, but his mind was as sharp as ever. He had done something he had never done before. He came back.

A young boy opened the door. "Hello."

The boy looked just like his father, same curly hair, same lanky build, same rounded chin, but the eyes were all his Darlin'. The same bold blue color, the same sparkle that could spell disaster or mischief depending on the mood, the same inquisitive intelligence. They seemed to flash with a curious gleam before the wide mouth quirked upward in a familiar goofy grin. "Can I help you?"

The tone of the young boy gave him pause. The words were formed in the structure of a question, but his voice betrayed a sort of intrinsic knowledge that made them seem anything but.

He cleared his throat. "I'm…Simon Walker. I'm your mom's father. Your grandfather."

Again, the boy smiled, ushering him inside, not the least surprised at the revelation. "Come in. Mom and Dad will be home soon."

"You're home alone?"

His juvenile counterpart rolled his eyes. "Ha, I wish. Uncle Johnny's out back with my brother." He sighed. "Mind may be fully developed, but biologically, still a child. Ergo, supervised at all times."

Simon's brow furrowed as he looked down at the boy, the words surprisingly mature for one so young looking. "How old are you?"

"Ten."

"No offense, kid, but you're not like any ten year-olds I've ever met."

Again, that damnable knowing smile crossed the boyish face. "Hate to break it to you, Grandpa, but I'm pretty sure the ten year-olds you've met aren't in the seventh grade."

Simon quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "You know it figures my daughter and that schnook would make a genius."

A shrug lifted a pair of small shoulders, the boy knowing that in the Bartowski-Walker world, that sort of thing was the standard protocol. "Normal is so overrated."

"Right…"

The front door opened, and a familiar boisterous voice boomed through the house. "We're home! Where are you, rugrats?"

Immediately, the boy's face lit up and he rushed towards the front door. With a leap, he tackled his father, giggling as Chuck swung him up and onto his shoulders.

"Mom! Dad!"

Chuck laughed, flipping his son upside down and attacking his belly. "Hey there, Einstein! Were you good for your Uncle Casey?"

"Yup, yup!"

Sarah joined in, her own fingers digging into her youngest son's sides. "No almost blowing up the garage with your Junior Genius chemistry set, Shane Morgan?"

Shane shook his head, his curls flopping with the movement. "Nope, nope!"

Chuck continued his attack. "No making your Uncle Casey growl by using big words you know he doesn't understand?"

Shane grinned, tilting his head as best he could in his inverted position. "Eh…"

Chuck returned the grin, ducking his head to blow a raspberry into his youngest son's belly. "Close enough."

Shane began shrieking hysterically, squirming in his father's hold, appealing to the person neither of his parents had yet to see. "Help me, Grandpa!"

Chuck started, almost dropping his son in surprise. "Grandpa?"

Both swiveled to find Sarah's father idling at the doorway to the foyer. Sarah

"Dad…"

"Hey, Darlin'." Simon smiled, opening his arms. "You gonna get over here and give your old man a hug?"

Sarah hesitated only a second before stepping into her father's arms. "You're back."

"Yeah," he whispered back. He kept it simple because, frankly, he still wasn't all too sure why himself. Simon pulled away, keeping an arm slung around her shoulders as he nodded his head towards the curly-haired phenom. "I see you've added to the family."

"Yup. Two more. This is our youngest, Shane."

"The boy genius."

"He prefers 'child prodigy,'" Sarah recalled fondly, ruffling her son's curls. "Although he lets his brother call him Boy Wonder."

"Hey, Mom! Hey, Dad!" The Bartowski-Walker clan rotated to find their middle child crashing through the room, a baseball glove on his left hand. "You gotta come see my curveball now! It's breaking like crazy!"

Chuck shot his son an amused glance. "And by breaking, you don't mean things like windows, right?"

"That was one time!" he protested. "It's not my fault Uncle Johnny was working with the cutter. I didn't know the thing would dive down the way it did."

Sarah laughed indulgently. "You're lucky you didn't catch your Uncle Morgan in the head. He was so immersed in that _Call of Duty_ battle with your father, he wouldn't have even noticed it coming."

Chuck turned to Simon, gesturing to the twelve year-old. "Our middle child, Grady John."

"Grady, this is your Grandpa Ja-Simon," Sarah introduced. "He's my father."

Grady approached Simon, right hand outstretched. "Hello, sir."

The final member of the Bartowski clan was a bit different than his siblings. Rather than the dark strands of his brothers and sisters, he boasted a head of blonde locks cropped close to his head, and the light brown eyes, sprinkled liberally with a shade of light green shone with a serious glint. Where his siblings were obviously very vibrant and effervescent, he radiated a calmer, more reserved demeanor. He was broader than his younger brother, wider in the shoulders and chest, his build and mannerisms more reminiscent of his namesake.

"Finally!" The older surrogate member of the clan entered through the back door, the dogs at his heels. "Where's the food? I'm starving."

Sarah rolled her eyes. He may have originally threatened to kill them both, but over the years, John Casey had become a permanent fixture at the Bartowski stronghold. She fixed him with an admonishing glance.

"John, you're a grown man. I'm sure you're highly capable of fixing yourself something to eat."

Casey huffed. "Sure, if you want your kitchen burnt to a crisp. And since it cost the taxpayers a pretty penny, I'd guess you'd rather refrain from me attempting so."

"You could always just heat up one of your Hot Pockets," Chuck pointed out. "You do have enough neurons to work a microwave, don't you? Besides, what makes you think you're invited to diner?"

Casey pointedly ignored the jab, choosing instead to whine in his strangely gruff manner."C'mon, I know you two got takeout from Guerilla Barbecue. Don't you dare taunt me with that stuff when you know how much I love it!"

Sarah laughed. "Settle down, Casey. You have to know by now that you're invited to dinner and we bought enough for you."

"Sadistic people," Casey grumbled. "Taunt a man with food and threaten to snatch it away." His eyebrow cocked in surprise as he noticed the third adult present. "Mr. Walker."

Simon inclined his head, eyes shining with amusement. "Cop Face."

Casey grunted, rolling his eyes, tossing his glove onto the kitchen table, snatching it right back up at Sarah's pointed look. He rotated to his partner's other half, baring his teeth.

"I can't arrest him, can I?"

Chuck shook his head. "No, sorry, Casey. Legally, he's Simon Walker. Legally, he doesn't have a record."

Casey cocked an eyebrow. "Technicalities."

Chuck returned the gesture. "Dude, we operate off of technicalities."

"So when's dinner already?" Casey grumbled, glancing up at the clock. "I'm starving."

"The twins should be back –" Sarah's statement was cut off by the telltale slam of the front door.

"Mom, Dad, we're home!"

Chuck rotated to find his eldest throwing their bags in the foyer, making their way towards the kitchen. "Kids…I'm sure you remember…"

The twins cut her off as they spotted Simon, eyes lighting up with delight. "Grandpa!"

Simon's eyes widened as the two teenagers converged on him, wrapping him up in a massive three-person hug. It was as though he had never left as they greeted him warmly, chattering in unison, eagerly filling him in on the things he had missed in his absence. Chuck laughed, prying the pair off of Simon, ushering them towards the stairs.

"Alright, you two, you'll get time to talk with Grandpa soon enough. Go wash up for dinner."

With a final hug, Maddie and Landon obliged, thundering up the stairs to their bathroom. Simon shook his head in bewilderment.

"They're so big. They were toddlers when I first saw them."

Chuck grinned, eyes shining with pride. "Yup, they're off to college in the fall. Landon's got a football scholarship to Boston College, and Maddie's heading to UCLA."

Simon shook his head. Maddie and Landon had barely reached his kneecap the last time he was in Burbank. Now Landon stood a good three to four inches taller than him while Maddie just eclipsed his eyesight.

Chuck smirked, clapping a hand on his father-in-law's back. "C'mon, everyone. Let's eat."

- - -

Dinner was as much of an opposite of Simon's first reappearance as could be. The kids carried the conversation, engaging their grandfather as much as they could, informing him of the important events in their lives. Chuck and Sarah seemed content, on the other hand, to simply sit back and watch their children connect with their grandfather. Casey just attacked the food.

Simon looked around the house as the family split off to their various activities. Casey had left to shoot a couple of rounds over at the local shooting range. Grady and Shane were busy cleaning up the kitchen. Chuck retreated to his office to field a call from the New York branch while Sarah disappeared to the den to finish the last few exams that needed to be graded. Maddie had left scant seconds ago, dashing down the stairs, backpack in hand, for a study session with a few of her friends, leaving Simon and Landon on the patio staring out into the bright early evening sun.

"So I hear you're quite the sportsman." Simon broke the silence as he spotted the football idling by the patio steps and snagged it, motioning with a hitch of his head to his grandson. "Wanna show me your stuff?"

"Sure." Landon grinned. "I'm not as charismatic as Maddie, or as driven as Grady, or as freakishly intelligent as Shane, but I can throw a football pretty well. I guess I broke the Bartowski mold by being naturally athletic. Must be the Walker side of my genes." He deftly caught the offering from his grandfather, cocking the golden arm back and sending a perfect spiral to Simon.

The former con man whistled. "Impressive, son." He sent the ball back. "So why BC?"

Landon shrugged. "Liked the area, liked the campus. I don't know. There was just something about it. Something that drew me there. Something that fit." He twirled the ball in his grasp, fingers innately finding the seams before another spiral knifed through the air. "Plus it's nice to see where Mom grew up."

Simon smiled. It was a rueful, quirk of the lips. "Yeah. Boston is nice."

Landon paused as he caught the ball again. Something seemed to be on his mind. Finally, he glanced up at his grandfather, deep brown eyes clouded with indecision. "I know you go by Simon Walker, but Mom always said I was named after her father. That makes you really Landon Montgomery."

Simon mirrored the pause before he responded with a definitive nod of his head. "That's right."

"So why'd you change your name?"

This time, the pause was lengthier. "I wasn't the best person," he admitted. "For most of my life, I worked as a con man. I changed identities about as often as people change underwear. I lied, cheated, stole, extorted, bribed…" Simon shook his head. "My old man was a cop," he explained, "but for embodying as an image of benevolence, he was a real bastard. Me being what I was…it was my way of flipping the bird to the old man." Simon squinted up at his grandson. "There was only one time in my adult life that I used my real name."

"When?"

"The day I met your grandmother," Simon recalled fondly. "She stole my breath away. I didn't want the first thing I told her to be a lie."

"You went away for a long time, Grandpa. Why?"

"It was all I knew," Simon murmured, "how to be a con man," he clarified at Landon's slightly confused stare. "I didn't know anything else. I don't think I really knew even how to be a father. And seeing your mother and how she was with you and your sister…" Simon shrugged "I figured she was better off without me ruining her life. She didn't need me. She never needed me. Even with a bad father, she turned out just fine. All without me."

"But now you're here," Landon pointed out.

"I am."

"Why'd you come back?"

"Because as horrible of a father as I was, I couldn't bear myself to be a horrible grandfather." Simon ducked his head down. "It just took me awhile to realize that. You, your sister, your brothers, your mom, you guys are all I have left now."

"Better late than never, Grandpa." Landon those deep chocolate eyes that saw through everything, just like his father's. "Are you staying?"

Simon Walker, once James Valentine, Jack Burton, and Landon Montgomery, surveyed his grandson. He was a good height, just as tall as his father, with a broad, athletic build and long legs. He shifted his gaze to Landon's face, open and honest with the kind heart of his father, yet intelligent and worldly, fully aware of the human condition and its flaws and foibles. Simon slung an arm around his taller grandson, squeezing the strong shoulder. Landon Montgomery would live on in a soul greater than the original could ever think to be.

"You know, I think I am."

- - -

Simon idled once again behind the glass door, visibly hesitant on moving forward. Sarah sat on the patio, gazing out into the setting sun, a bottle of Merlot before her and a glass in her hand. Two more glasses sat empty beside her. Chuck sidled up to his father-in-law, an indulgent smile on his face.

"You can't apologize from all the way out here."

Simon blew out a deep breath, turning to the taller man. "You said it yourself, Charlie, my baby girl holds a grudge."

Chuck smiled. "Yeah, but you're her father. Be thankful of that. The last person she ran into from her past who antagonized her got a cougar bust to the head and arrested by the feds. That was, of course, following a lengthy fight that seemed to make its way into the showers…" Chuck trailed off as he caught the look on Simon's face. "But that's neither here nor there…"

Simon swallowed hard. "Erm, she doesn't have any…er…ammunition on her?"

Chuck shrugged. "Maybe. I don't think there's a time where she doesn't have at least a blade or something similar on her."

Simon sighed, muttering to himself. "I knew it was a mistake to teach her how to throw knives…"

Psyching himself up, he pulled open the screen door, venturing out onto the patio. He could see Sarah tense at his presence, and he held up his hands in a placating gesture as he slid into her view.

"Easy, Darlin'," he murmured. "I come in peace."

Sarah scrutinized him for a second before gesturing down to the chair beside her. Simon eased himself down, accepting the glass of Merlot she offered.

"Pretty nice set up you got here, honey," Simon mused. "I don't know if I mentioned that the last time I was here."

Sarah nodded, twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. The engagement ring and its matching band sparkled against the glass. "Chuck wanted somewhere a bit secluded. It's hard enough that people know him for TI, he didn't want them intruding on our privacy away from the office." She motioned to the sprawling backyard, the pool shimmering and reflecting the light of the sun.

"It's nice here. Calm. Quiet…" Sarah reevaluated her statement, tilting her head slightly. "Well, when the kids aren't wreaking havoc. Which actually occurs a lot more frequent than you think."

"Kinda out of the way," Simon commented.

Sarah chuckled. "Our professions put us in the spotlight often enough. We didn't want to make it easy to do so away from the office."

It was awhile before either of them spoke, but Sarah broke the silence eventually. "You came back."

Simon nodded, swallowing a mouthful of Merlot. "That's right."

"You never came back before," Sarah pointed out.

Simon ducked his head. "I never really had a reason to. Having me in your life would only screw it up. I know I was never a good father. But you've given me about four really good reasons to stay. I may have screwed up when it came to you, Darlin', but I want to be there for my grandchildren. I may be a bit late with Landon and Madeline, but I still have Grady and Shane to try and rectify those mistakes."

"It would mean a lot to me if you went straight, Dad," Sarah murmured softly. "We have more than enough money here. You don't have to be working a job anymore. You can earn an honest living for once, if not just to keep you out of trouble. I know Chuck would hire you." She locked eyes with her father, the intent palpable in those bold blue eyes. "And I know the kids would love to have their grandfather in their lives."

Simon didn't have to hesitate. He held up a hand, index and middle fingers extended. "Scouts' honor, Darlin'. Simon Walker will be on the straight and narrow."

Sarah smirked. "You posed as a regional director and conned them out of ten thousand dollars and hundreds of boxes of free cookies when I was twelve," she deadpanned. "I'm pretty sure using that holds absolutely no merit."

Simon glanced down at the salute and shrugged. "I do mean it, though. No more jobs. I'm gonna be on the straight and narrow and be there for my grandkids. I'm here to stay, Sarah."

"I love you, Dad."

"Love you, too, Angel Hair."

He had left Sarah Walker more times than he could count. He had let her down when she needed him the most, he had walked away when he knew she had found something better than a two-bit con man could offer. But that's when he had been Richard Franco, Kevin O'Connell, and Jack Burton. Now, he was Simon Walker, and Simon Walker was staying right where he was.

For good.

_And cut! As usual, hoped you liked it. Anyone catch the slight throwback to a previous chapter? I'm sure some of you did._

_Okay, here's the deal. I would like to give Neil a chapter of his own just so he's not just a background character. Because I really think he'd be prevalent in the kids' lives. So I've decided to give him a bit of a love interest. So I pose this to the readers: would you like to see a little bit of loving for Mr. Grayson? And if so, should it be a new character or an old face? Don't worry, Casey's getting his as well, but that's not until later. And what will Maddie say about that when her favorite uncle gets a girl? _

_And thank you to everyone who nominated and voted for this story in the 2009 Awesome Awards! I am truly honored that all you readers enjoy this story so much as to allow it to win an award. Considering the talent here at the Chuck boards, that is truly an honor. I am honestly touched._

_Next, we have a bit of a as the youngest child, Shane, realizes just how closely he's gonna follow his father's footsteps. Then perhaps the return of Cole Barker, followed by an interlude featuring Casey and his best girl._

_Until next time,_

_Roxy_


	14. Chuck vs the Full Circle

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

**Rating:** _K+ ignore the one swear word._

**Timeline:** _A few months before the events of Chapter 12, Sarah vs. the Retrieved Reformation. The twins are eighteen, Grady is twelve, and Shane is ten._

**Summary:** _It had to be inevitable. They wished it wouldn't be, hoped it wouldn't occur...of course it did._

_Alright, my pretties. This is the chapter that is solely focused on the youngest Bartowski child, Shane. I hope you like the little genius I've created for this Chuck-verse. I tried to expand on his personality as well as the rest of the children, and I hope that he's believable in his genius. I also added some brother-brother interaction because I felt that aside from Maddie and Landon, there hasn't been too much of that in this series. I hope you like it._

_I also am working on the next chapter for Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael. After a promising start, I seem to have run out of gas for the time being. I blame it on Shane since he's such a fun character to write. I'm hoping to get the next chapter out once I finish the next one for Parenthood. We'll see!_

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy!_

**Chapter 13**

_Chuck vs. the Full Circle_

Shane Bartowski had long since been resigned to the fact that if his siblings weren't normal, well than his level of normality hit a whole different spectrum. It was just a whole different category than what was considered normal. Since he had been old enough to comprehend, his brain just seemed to work differently than what he was certain was usual. Processes that would normally happen gradually seemed to occur instantly and with very little effort on his part. It began with an edictic memory that manifested itself when he turned three, already beginning to read. Anything he saw, he could remember. Anything he read, he could recall to the letter. His mind computed large sums and products with the ease and skill of a finely tuned calculator. Technology and everything that concerned it just made sense. He would have to put some effort into writing a five-paragraph essay but ask him to hack into a computer system, he could do it almost instinctively.

He had to admit though, it was a lonely existence. Besides his siblings, he had few real friends. It wasn't that he wasn't a friendly person. Quite the contrary. There were times in which he rivaled Maddie in the charisma department. It seemed as though he had inherited the full of his father's affability and a bit of that undeniable warmth from his mother that simply drew people in. No, it was the situation. He was two years younger than his peers and was often seen as the freakishly smart kid. Children his own age were often wary of him as well as his maturity eclipsed their own by a steady margin.

It was a weird paradox that he seemed to hover on both sides of the spectrum. On one hand, he liked his intelligence. He took pride in his intellectual talents and pursuits. He liked having a brain that worked so efficiently and effortlessly. He liked being the one that knew the answers. On the other hand, he wished for an existence where his was less...lonely. He wished for a taste of normality where he wasn't that genius who skipped ahead two grades. He wanted to struggle through school, experience the trials and tribulations of the basic learning process, and goof off. He wanted to slough it and not be totally guilty about wasting potential. He wanted to be the one who had the crowded lunch table because so many people were drawn to him. It was quite the predicament.

He supposed it was par for the course, however. Each of his siblings seemed to have a specialty that accompanied the weird propensity for acrobatic physical feats of improbable proportions their super spy parents had surely genetically bestowed upon them. Maddie was the ham, thriving in anything that had eyes on her: theatre, cheerleading, daily life; she seemed destined for the spotlight. Landon was the athlete of the family, possessing a golden arm that had football scouts across the nation itching to sign them to their programs. Of course the prospect that the great Charles Montgomery may oh-so generously endow a building (or two) was just as enticing as Landon's arm strength and time in the forty-yard dash. Grady was the ambitious one. Driven in a way that none of the others were. He resembled their Uncle Casey with his more reserved demeanor, but oddly enough, seemed to connect more with their Uncle Awesome than anyone else. Grady knew what he wanted in life and set out every day to achieve it. And him...one would think that with three remarkable talents preceding him, the higher powers would have run out of remarkable genetic combinations to bestow upon him. Quite the contrary. In an awkward twist of fate and genetics, he was the Boy Wonder, the child prodigy who wowed the family and peers. And probably, the Bartowski most likely to take up the Montgomery mantle and continue the family business. Thank you, Great Power. Much appreciated.

It was a hard cross to bear sometimes. Shane couldn't count how many times people had come up and asked him how he knew the things he did, to explain how that genius mind of his worked. The truth was, he didn't know any better than they did. It was all a mystery to him. It would be much easier to explain the properties of a complex chemical combination or explain how the CPU of his father's latest system of computers worked faster than five PCs combined. His mind simply existed, with no rhyme, reason, or method to its madness. He had stopped trying to understand it a long time ago. Some perceived his lack of knowledge as arrogance, but the honest truth was he didn't know. Not many people seemed to get that. The only person who truly did was his father. Not to say the rest of the family didn't, but his seemed to hold an instinctive understanding of the unexplained functions of his mind. He would often shrug with a smile and comment with infinite sagacity that, "Some people's minds just go. The only err one should make with the human mind is to overestimate it."

Speaking of his father...Shane needed to find the elusive patriarch of the Bartowski clan. He had a theory he needed to test out and needed his father to check if his theory was in any way shape or form plausible. He meandered through the house, unencumbered by any of his siblings intercepting him for one thing or another. He was the lone Bartowski kid in the house with Maddie out with some girls from the cheer team, Landon catching some waves with a bunch of his football teammates, and Grady at baseball practice. He knew his mother was either working out in the gym or formulating lesson plans for the next week and had seen his father, and Uncles Neil and Casey going down to the Lair, his father's room of nerdiness, and followed their path. He poked his head in and immediately noticed three things: 1) his father was dressed in his off-day usual of a button-up shirt, jeans, and his trademark Chuck Taylors, 2) his Uncle Neil and Uncle Johnny were obviously trying to be hip to the times by wearing sunglasses inside, and 3) a lot of pictures were flashing on the large movie-like screen suspended before his father standing in the middle of the room.

He stood, mesmerized, as the millions of pictures registered in his active mind, feeling as though they were being downloaded into his brain. They were peculiar pictures, he mused, seemingly unrelated and completely random. All that and whatever musings were left in his head, however, faded to black as the pictures abruptly stopped, and Shane keeled over with a dull thud.

Chuck shook himself from the after effects of the update, turning to Neil and Casey. "What was that?"

Casey removed his sunglasses, tossing them down on the keypad, cocking an eyebrow with a wry expression. "You know after a few years in this business, I'd think you'd recognize a body hitting the ground, Bartowski."

Chuck shot his partner a dirty look. "Thank you, Casey, I'm well aware of that, but who was the body?"

Neil didn't contribute to the conversation, only swallowed hard, his green eyes widening as he lowered his lenses and caught a glimpse of something just behind Chuck. He turned to the aforementioned man. "Uh, Chuck?"

Chuck rotated slowly, following Neil's finger. His heart seized in his chest as he found his youngest son sprawled spread-eagle on the floor, eerily still.

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no." Chuck bolted to his supine son, feeling anxiously for a pulse. Breathing out when he found the strong steady beat, he knew it was only time until Shane regained consciousness.

"Dude," Neil breathed out, hovering over Chuck's shoulder, "Sarah's gonna _kill_ you."

Chuck rotated sharply, shooting his partner a dirty look. "Thank you, Neil. I am well aware of that."

Chuck's attention was diverted as Shane twitched at his side, awakening with a groan. "Shane, buddy, you okay?"

The youngest Bartowski looked more than slightly disoriented as he blinked blearily, his blue eyes focusing on his father. "Dad?"

"You feeling okay?"

"Uh, a bit disoriented, a bit confused," Shane mumbled. "My head's kinda pounding a bit. Uncle Johnny didn't hit me with a tranq dart again, did he?"

Casey rolled his eyes. "A guy makes a mistake one time, and he doesn't hear the end of it."

Chuck, by contrast, was much more concerned with the matter at hand, and his eyes squeezed shut as he recognized the symptoms, muttering anxiously to himself. "Oh, that's not good."

Shane's blue eyes snapped to his father and widened slightly. "Dad, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

Chuck didn't answer, only looked frantically around for something that would trigger a flash. Something that would provide information Shane wasn't already privy to. His eyes fell on Neil and he practically pounced on his partner. Neil yelped in surprise as Chuck grabbed his arm, yanking up the sleeve of his sweater to reveal the tattoo inked into the inner forearm and thrusting the image in front of Shane's eyes.

As soon as those big blues focused on the tattoo, Shane froze, his eyelids fluttered, his eyes crossing slightly, and he drew in a sharp intake of breath. Neil wasn't quite sure what was going on, with Chuck long since having suppressed his Intersect reactions to a mere blink of the eye or slight narrowing of his gaze, but to Chuck and Casey, the signs were painfully clear. Shane was flashing. Sure enough, mere seconds later, the information poured out in the telltale monotone as the supercomputer relayed information through the preteen.

"Neil Patrick Grayson, Senior CIA operative, codename Thundercat. Born July 2, 1985 in Bangor, Maine. Recruited by CIA technological analysis director Stephen Bartowski from high school. Significant assignments include operations in Bangladesh and Moscow. Current assignment, classified, centered in Burbank, California."

"He uploaded it," Neil breathed out.

Casey's corresponding grumble was just as agonized when he realized the implications. "Oh, _Chuck me_…"

"Do we know the extent of this?" Neil asked.

"What do you mean?" Chuck responded absently.

"What if it's only partial?" Neil posed. "What if he only responds to visual triggers?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Chuck answered. He turned to his son who shrank back slightly in apprehension.

"Orion's Belt."

Again, Shane's eyelids fluttered, and once again, the information expelled from his mouth in that monotone. "Orion's Belt. Code name of the CIA initiative involving the human Intersect project. Program is a joint operation of all intelligence agencies within the United States headed by CIA operatives Charles Bartowski, Sarah Walker, and Neil Grayson with joint command of Lieutenant Colonel John Casey, US Army."

With a gasp, Shane broke out of the flash, rapidly backing away from his father and uncles. "Whoa, oh, God." He ran his hands through his hair, muttering absently to himself. "Okay, Shane…don't freak out."

Casey groaned, vocalizing the cumulative thought of the three men. "Oh, sweet son of Charlton Heston, not again."

Shane's eyes whipped to his father. "Dad…what just happened?"

"Shane," Chuck began, grasping his youngest son's arms. "You know what I do really, right?" He considered his words for a moment before edifying. "Not just TI, but _really_."

"Yeah," Shane answered slowly. "You, Mom, and Uncle Neil work for the CIA. Uncle Casey works for the NSA. Every so often you go on missions that take you everywhere but mostly, you stay in California." He shook his head bemusedly. "I've known since I was seven."

"Okay, Shane, what I'm gonna tell you, you know has to stay within this house." Chuck began pacing before his son, hands waving in the anxious, haphazard manner that belied his steady tone. "You see, I'm not your normal CIA agent. I have a lot of information stored in my brain. Nothing like general knowledge but...secrets."

Shane was scared to ask what his father meant by that. His curiosity won over however, and he ventured forward, albeit a bit timidly. "What kind of secrets?"

"The government's secrets," Chuck answered. "Everything about everyone who could possibly pose a threat to our government and the governments around us."

"So you're basically the government's lockbox," Shane commented.

"Yes," Chuck answered. "Everything the government knows about everything I know."

"So what does that mean, Dad?" Shane demanded. "What is happening to me?"

"Shane…" Chuck was unsure of how to go about this. It sounded so fantastical in his mind, even if it was nothing short of the truth. "I was born with something called subliminal image recognition. You know what that means, right?"

Shane nodded. "You have the ability to recognize if an image is encoded with more images," he answered.

"Right." Chuck looked his son straight into the bold blue eyes Sarah had gifted to him. "You have that ability too, son. The images you saw were encoded subliminally with the government's secrets. When you see a visual trigger or hear an auditory trigger, it will generate the encoded images that correspond to the secrets."

"Wait, Dad!" Shane squeezed his eyes shut, hands scissoring in his unspoken request as he tried to work out what his father was hinting at. "Are you saying that right now, all the government's secrets, the same secrets that are in your brain are in mine, too?!"

Chuck winced, eyes plummeting to the ground. "Yes, Shane. I'm saying exactly that."

Shane didn't speak for a very long moment. But when he finally did, his voice was decidedly shaky. "Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

Shane's olive skin had taken on a green tinge. "I'm freaking out." He wavered on his feet, his voice deciding not to cooperate with his mouth. "Wh-what…wh–"

Chuck caught his son by the arms, guiding him to the couch in the corner. "Shane, buddy, sit down. You're gonna hyperventilate."

"Too late, Bartowski," Casey mused wryly, observing the rapid, shallow breaths of his nephew as the young boy collapsed onto the cushion of the couch. Shane groaned heavily, cradling his head in his hands.

"Oh, God, I think I'm gonna be sick."

Chuck bolted from his kneeling position, striding to the mini-Fridge in the room and extracting a single can of orange soda from the depths, knowing the sweet, carbonated beverage would calm his son.

"Here, bud, drink this."

Shane accepted the can gratefully, popping the tab and taking a swig of the fruity soft drink. "Thanks, Dad."

Chuck rose, one hand gripping the tousled strands of his hair. "Okay, now we have to keep this hushed up so that Sarah doesn't catch wind of it. I want to ease into it with her. I don't want her to stumble across the fact that our youngest son is now the next generation of the human Intersect."

Casey's eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of what he could only describe as a blonde-haired cyclone bearing down on them. He swallowed hard. This time, his voice came out slightly strangled. "Again, Bartowski, too late."

"CHARLES IRVING BARTOWSKI!"

Chuck froze, his head falling to his palm with an audible smack. "Oh, shit…"

Sarah stormed up to him with the intent of a bull who's just seen red. "Please tell me what I think I just heard happened really didn't happen." Her eyes whipped over to her son nursing his soda, one hand running anxiously through his hair. "What the hell happened?"

Chuck decided the best approach was to back away slowly, which he did, hands braced protectively before him. "Sarah, honey…"

For all her beauty and grace, Sarah Bartowski sure was frightening when she was angry. "Do not 'Sarah, honey' me, Chuck! Our son…our youngest son. My baby is the Intersect." She squared up to her husband, one finger poking into his chest as she yanked him into the hallway. "Now I'm gonna ask you again, _what the hell happened_?!"

It was a sobering sight if Shane had ever seen one. He had never seen his mother lose it the way she was now. She had always been the calm, collected one. Shane was positive that even if the world was literally exploding around her, she would still keep a rational mind and try to find a way out of impending doom. That was what made her such an amazing agent.

"Walker."

Sarah halted at Casey's authoritative voice, strangely soft in its tone. "Don't, John," she cut him off. "This isn't one of our normal missions or something the Intersect spit out. You know that."

"I do, Walker," Casey assured her. He hitched a thumb back to where Shane's profile was visible through the crack in the door. "But what I also know is that your son is freaking out. And you freaking out is not going to help."

Sarah took a cleansing breath and complied. Both could see that the turmoil still wavered at the surface. "What happened?"

"He walked in during the update," Neil ventured meekly, conveniently hiding behind Casey, hoping the man's three-inch height advantage would suffice if Sarah to throw things. Such as objects. Or worse, punches. Elbows. No one wanted to get in the way of any prospective projectiles.

Sarah visibly deflated, concern overriding any lingering vestiges of her wrath. "Oh, God."

"I know," Chuck mumbled. "I thought I killed him."

Sarah's head snapped up so abruptly that Shane vaguely wondered if she experienced whiplash. "What?!"

Chuck blanched. "You didn't hear that."

"Chuck..." The questions seemed to swirl in her head before she settled for the most pressing. "What are we going to do?"

So many answers littered his mind, clashing, contradicting, and battling for dominance. They all seemed right but they all seemed wrong at the same time. Before the most fitting response finally materialized. It was clear. There was no answer. He looked at his wife, thrown by how much trust she bestowed upon him to make this decision for their family. He knew for certain she wasn't gonna like this.

"We're gonna let him choose."

Predictably enough, Sarah's eyes bugged as she shook her head, clearing the cobwebs as though they were impeding her hearing. "WHAT?! Chuck, he's..."

"Old enough to make his own decision," Chuck answered. "We're going to give him what I never had. We're gonna give him a choice."

"No!"Sarah shouted. "We are going to take that blasted thing out of his head, no question!"

"What if he doesn't want it out of his head?" Chuck ventured, subtly inching his way towards Neil who still hovered behind Casey who looked none too pleased about serving as the _de facto_ shield.

Sarah blinked as though she wasn't sure she heard him correctly. "Excuse me?"

"Sarah, what if he wants to do this?" he posed.

"Chuck, he's _ten,_" Sarah pointed out.

"And he's a genius," Chuck countered. "He's shown that he has more than enough maturity and intellectual capability to decide if he wants to be part of this."

"Chuck, he still finds humor in fart jokes and you slapping Morgan with a rubber fish. I don't know if that argument holds any merit."

"Sarah, _Casey_ still finds humor in fart jokes and me slapping Morgan with a rubber fish," Chuck pointed out, one finger extended out towards the man in question.

Said man smirked gleefully, immensely pleased with himself. "The gnome makes such a funny face..."

Sarah rolled her eyes, disregarding the inane statement. "Chuck, he's our baby," she pleaded.

Chuck sighed, his head lolling down to his chest. "I know...I know." He shrugged. "I just wanted to give him something I didn't have. I stumbled into this and never really was given a choice. Shane has the choice to walk away or not."

"You were lucky enough not to be changed from all this," Sarah pressed. "We run the chance of molding him into a Jason Bourne if he starts this too early. Look at me. I started in high school and was emotionally stunted for a decade."

"But he's got us," Chuck reminded her. "He has you and me, and the kids, and Casey and Neil, and Awesome and Ellie, and Morgan and Anna. We won't let them change him just like we didn't let them change me."

"Chuck..." Sarah pleaded once more. "He's your son. He has your heart and moral compass. There's a very little chance that he will walk away. He'll see it as some sort of obligation."

"Then he'll have made the right decision for himself," Chuck placated her. "We're gonna have to trust that he'll make the decision for himself, honey."

Sarah sighed heavily. "I don't like this."

"You're his mother," Chuck remarked fondly. "You're not supposed to."

"And you do?"

"No," Chuck conceded. "But ultimately, it's up to him. We have to trust he'll make the right decision for himself and everyone else and support him whether or not we like the decision. You know that."

"I do," Sarah answered. "I figured something like this would happen to one of the kids. It was bound to. I just didn't think it would have been Shane."

"I hate to break it to you, babe, but do you really see the other three in this situation?"

"No," Sarah chuckled unwittingly. "Sadly enough, they are much too normal for this."

All conversation stopped as Shane poked his head through the door, tentatively making his way out into the hallway. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets, rocking back on the heels of his Chucks as he looked pleadingly to both parents.

"Mom, Dad, cease and desist, please? I don't know exactly what you're arguing about - I'm gonna take a wild stab in the dark and guess it's about me - but I'm gonna go outside and think about what just happened because frankly, I'm pretty sure this is over even my comprehension." He shot out a weak smile. "Excuse me."

Sarah and Chuck looked at each other, communicating in that silent way that astounded many of their peers and irritated their children before Sarah sighed, hitching her head in the direction their son had taken towards the patio. Chuck nodded, turning and following.

Sarah only shook her head. It _really_ figured, didn't it?

- - -

_It's all coming full circle,_ Chuck mused as he eased himself down onto the patio overlooking the pool. It seemed as though it was yesterday that he had been in such a similar position on a beach with a stunning, blonde CIA agent tentatively approaching. This time, however, the positions were reversed, and he was the tentative approacher as his son sat forlornly confused at this new situation thrust upon him.

Chuck cast a sidelong glance to his youngest son, prompting him gently. "Talk to me, buddy."

"Why'd this happen to me, Dad?" Shane asked, his voice, not yet even deepened into manhood, wavering slightly with the dual armament of unshed tears and helpless anxiety. "Why not Maddie or Landon or Grady? I mean, I'm already a freak."

"You're not a freak, son."

Shane cocked an eyebrow, his eyes filled with the slightly cynic glint that had come with years of practice. "Dad. I'm ten years old and in the seventh grade. My mind is a literal database for whatever I see with my eyes. And now I have all of the government's secrets in my head. What part of that is normal?"

"Buddy, you gotta know by now you're not normal," Chuck commented wryly. "_We're_ not normal."

"But why does it have to be me?" Shane demanded. "I'm already a genius, why do _I_ have to be another Intersect?"

"I don't know," Chuck answered truthfully. "I asked myself that tons of times when it first happened to me, too. Out of everyone in the entire world, why did I have to be the one Bryce Larkin sent the e-mail to? Then I figured out, it was kind of my destiny. The spy life had been part of me even before I was born. Everything that happened to me had be a construct of this life I had been shielded from." Chuck shrugged. "Then, one day, I decided I didn't want to be shielded from it any longer. I wanted to be in control of it for once."

He drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I kept wondering what if I had been aware of it from the beginning. You know, if everyone stopped trying to save me and protect me and just allowed me to make my own decision. And I swore that if one of you ever had this happen by some weird twist of fate," Chuck smiled deprecatingly to himself, knowing that that was exactly how their present events occurred, "I would give you the choice." He looked at his son. "And that is what you have, Shane. You have a choice. You always do. You keep all this in your head and you'll be trained like us."

"Or?" Shane asked, a bit afraid of the answer.

"Or Pop Pop can take it out, and you go back to your life," Chuck finished. "It's your choice."

"Wow," Shane breathed. "Lay it on a kid real thick, why don't you..." He looked to his father. "Can you give me a minute, Dad?"

"Sure, son. Take your time."

- - -

Shane wallowed in his isolation, his predicament weighing heavily on his mind when the sharp bang of the side gate opening and closing arrested his attention. He turned to find his elder brother striding in, fresh from the beach. His long legs still had a light dusting of sand coating them, and his shirt was slightly damp. Landon hitched his bag higher over his shoulder, a surfboard under his arm as he ran a hand through his still wet hair. Landon grinned a greeting, propping the board by the rest. He clapped a hand on Shane's shoulder as he plopped himself down beside his brother, his toes wiggling in the confines of his leather flip flops. He settled into a casual sprawl, leaning back on his elbows and allowing his legs to dangle down the patio steps.

"What up, Wonder Boy?"

Shane scowled, glancing down at his Chucks. "Don't call me that."

Landon's brow furrowed as he gazed down at his younger brother. "Shane, I've always called you that. What's wrong?"

Shane's shoulders slumped. He didn't normally, but right now, he felt awkward telling his older brother about his predicament. Landon was everything Shane wasn't and wished to be. He never had to deal with this sort of abnormality. The eldest Bartowski boy was tall, broad-shouldered, and athletic, his post-pubescent body already boasting the musculature most dreamed about. He had inherited the best characteristics of their parents, graced with a handsome, open face, easy smile, and an arm that had taken him to high school stardom. He might not have been the most intellectually gifted Bartowski, having to work hard to earn his grades where Maddie, Grady, and certainly Shane got them with relative ease, but he was a laid-back, genial guy, well-liked by his peers and popular with the ladies. However, knowing what he did about his brother, Shane knew that Landon wasn't one of those lowlifes who had peaked at high school. His elder brother would have success beyond his college years and well in to the future. Sitting with such irrevocable promise of greatness gave Shane a resigned, unsure reluctance to discuss this quandary with his brother. Still, Landon had an innate ability to know what to say when needed, and Shane sure knew that talent would be a great asset right now.

"I'm a freak," Shane confessed lowly.

Landon rotated towards his younger brother, holding his hands out. "Okay, you know when I call you that, I don't really mean it, right?"

"Well I mean it," Shane retorted. "I really am a freak."

Landon blinked a few times, his head falling slightly to the side in bewilderment. "Okay, you wanna explain? Cause, remember, I'm the dumb one of the family, and I'm really confused."

Shane only shook his head. He craned his neck upward, letting out a deep, suffering breath. "Landon, what would you do if you were in Dad's place?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if you were the Intersect?" Shane asked.

Landon recoiled slightly, running a hand through the straight dark hair that seemed to escape the innate Bartowski curl. "Whoa, well…I don't know. That's a lot of weight, you know, all of the government's secrets. You don't take stuff like that lightly." He shrugged, thinking hard. "Um, I guess…I'd do the same thing as Dad."

"Yeah?"

Landon nodded. "Yeah." He may not have been the most intellectually apt Bartowski, but he certainly held more than most people his age, and he held that instinctive Bartowski perception that seemed to always know something was up. "Look, I think I know what you're getting at." He couldn't stop the smirk from forming on his face. "You got yourself into something way over your head, didn't you?"

"It was a complete accident," Shane defended. "I walked into Dad's lair or whatever he calls it, but the next thing I knew, I knew stuff about Uncle Neil that I'm more than certain only a select few people know."

"Only you would stumble on completely by accident," Landon mused with a laugh.

"Shut up, dude," Shane growled, not quite seeing the humor in the situation. "This is traumatizing."

"Almost as traumatizing as-"

Shane cut him off with a decisive slice of his hand. "Don't even go there."

"Right." Landon leaned back further on his elbows, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He peered at his brother through hooded eyelids. "Look, you want my advice, brother to brother?"

Shane nodded.

"Okay..." he thought for a moment, scrutinizing his younger brother. Slowly, he sat up, rubbing the leather bracelet around his wrist as he thought of the best advice to give to his brother. Finally, he smiled.

"Stop thinking with up here." Landon knocked Shane's forehead with a playful jab. "Start thinking with down here." He poked his younger brother's chest. "You've honed your brain to analyze and scrutinize and pick apart until you've reached the core. You're gonna overthink it to death." He thumped Shane lightly in the chest again. "Mom and Dad have molded this to do what's right not just for yourself but anyone else involved. You go with your gut, and you do what you feel."

Landon flicked the dark strands of his hair away from his forehead with a casual toss of his head. Shane mused to himself that the unconscious act, seemingly innocent, had caused many coeds to expel breathy sighs at the sight of the eldest Bartowski boy, a trait Shane wished for himself in the future.

"Look, bud, I can't tell you what to do. This isn't my call." He tilted his head, favoring his younger brother with a smile. "First with the head, then with the heart." He gestured to Shane's forehead and chest once more. "Use this and this and do what's right."

Shane nodded. Corny as it sounded, he thought if he turned out to be just like his elder brother in the future, he would be alright with that. "Thanks, Landon."

Landon delivered a playful punch to his younger brother's arm. "You got it, bud."

"How'd you get to be so insightful?" Shane mused.

Landon shrugged, scratching at the bangs that wavered in his eyesight, the strands moving with his fingertips. "Life experience and being a big brother, dude. It comes with the territory."

Shane grinned. "Well, I'm glad you're my big brother."

Landon returned the grin, ruffling Shane's curly hair. "You gettin' mushy on me, little bro?"

"Dude, you totally just stomped on the moment."

A chuckle sounded. "We're guys, Wonder Boy, we don't _have_ moments..."

- - -

With as many people in the house as freakishly overprotective as they were even without an occurrence of such epic proportions, Shane wasn't all too surprised that he wasn't isolated for all that long when the heavy, even steps born from years in the military made their way towards them. He didn't have to look to know that his Uncle Johnny had eased himself onto the step next to him.

"Hey, Uncle Johnny," Shane mumbled deprecatingly.

"Hey, kid." Casey eyed his youngest nephew, the steely blue eyes sweeping over the slightly hunched form. "You okay?"

"As okay as a ten year-old who just found out he has the capability to house the entireity of the government's secrets in his brain can be," Shane answered blithely, the slightly sardonic tone belying his nonchalant appearance.

Casey smirked, looking down at the youngest Bartowski. "Looks like you're more like your father than you ever thought..."

Shane didn't answer the jibe, only allowed his eyes to stare out towards the horizon. Finally, he voiced the thought that had been weighing the heaviest on his mind. "What if I screw this up, Uncle Johnny? Why if I'm not good enough for this?"

"You know your dad fell into this pretty much the same way you did," Casey commented. "By accident and all that. When he first started, everything he did that was right was almost always completely by accident. Your mom and I had to train him as we went. Once he figured that hittin' someone before they hit you was a better strategy than that God-awful 'Morgan' move, he turned out to be a good agent."

"Uncle Johnny, what are you getting at?"

Casey drew in a deep breath, looking at his youngest nephew straight in the eye. "Look, if you're anything like your old man, which I know that you are, you're gonna be just as good if not even better. You can't be bad at this because its in your blood. Your grandpa, your mom, your dad...you're a Bartowski. There's no way you'll be anything less than the best."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm gonna be teaching you too," Casey reminded him. "I won't settle for making you anything less than the best, either."

Shane smiled, knowing this was as sentimental as his Uncle Johnny was gonna get without Maddie present. "Thanks, Uncle Johnny." He stayed silent for a moment, swinging his heels slightly as he thought to himself. In reality, he really didn't need to think about his decision. He knew what he had to do. It was all a matter of coming to terms with it. He turned to his uncle.

"So do I get a cool codename like Uncle Neil's?"

Casey looked on amused as Shane slowly but surely mustered enthusiasm up about his situation. "How about Skywalker? Or Tiberius? Pay homage to the great Captain Kirk and all. You know, I thought I saw Dad with one of those awesome watches that shoots lasers out of the side? Do I get one?"

Shane continued to pepper him with questions. Outwardly, Casey remained stoic, the perpetually irritated expression adorning his features. Inwardly, however, he beamed with pride. He had wondered which one of the kids would be the next company person. Even with their talents for the physically improbable, neither Maddie, Landon, nor Grady had the telltale makings of an agent. Shane, however, seemed to have that exceptional quality that set him apart from his siblings. Casey only watched his nephew prattle on with the undeniable enthusiasm his father seemed to possess. Reminded strongly of an affable, if not completely inept twenty-something with a head of curly, dark hair and a heart filled with a pronounced love of sci-fi and seemingly unrequited love of a certain blonde CIA agent, Casey could only roll his eyes.

"Sweet mother of Ronald Reagan, here we go again..."

- - -

Shane returned to his father's lair to find his parents and uncles waiting for him. He drew in a deep breath. "Before I decide, I just want to hear your take on what I should do."

The gathered adults exchanged glances before Neil spoke first. "Whatever decision you've made, Shane, I support you. To be honest, I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner, but I think this just might be what you're meant to do."

Chuck shrugged. "You know my feelings, bud."

"Ditto," Casey grunted.

Sarah was the last one. She still looked torn, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Honey, you know that I don't like this. It's a mother thing. I just want to shield you from the badness in this world for as long as I can. But I trust you, and I trust that you've made the best decision for yourself."

"Son?" Chuck ventured. "Have you decided?"

Shane nodded. He drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Well, first thing's first."

He grinned a grin full of mischief. "When do I get to learn how to shoot a gun?"

Chuck rolled his eyes, slinging an arm around his son's shoulders, ignoring the way Casey's eyes had lit up at the mention of firearms. "Why don't we start with hand-to-hand first, bud?"

- - -

**_Fifteen Years Later_**

Shane Morgan Bartowski, known to the general public as Shane Montgomery, leaned back in his chair. His eyes, unnecessarily hidden behind square-framed glasses, peered at the presentation before him, humming at the profits projected on the screen. He jumped slightly as his phone vibrated, and he looked down at the caller to find it one he should not miss. Holding a finger up to the young presenter, he punched in the button, raising the phone to his ear.

"Montgomery."

Shane listened for a moment, the only sounds grunts that could be construed as affirmations before he ended the call abruptly. Standing, he buttoned his suit jacket, shooting an apologetic glance to his audience.

"I'm sorry, everyone, but we're going to have to cut this short. I have some urgent business to attend to." He extended an arm, revealing the watch at his wrist. "We'll pick this up tomorrow at the same time." With a brisk nod to the gathered people, Shane strode from the conference room and out to the hallway. Sharply turning the corner, he stopped by reception to where his secretary was seated. Leaning against the desk, he grinned wolfishly at the beautiful blonde two years younger than him typing at the computer.

"Ms. Aimes."

Sharp blue eyes swung toward him, the delicately-shaped eyebrow quirking upward at the address. "Mr. Montgomery."

Shane reached over the desk, running a finger down the sculpted cheekbone, gently chucking her chin. "Do me a favor and forward all my calls to Jason, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Mr. Montgomery..." came the sweetly breathy reply. Shane grinned winningly and turned to go, only to rotate back at the following comment. "Oh, by the way, Shane, this is so cliched."

Shane grinned, cocking his head to feign ignorance. "What is?"

The same sharp blue eyes twinkled with a dry glint as the voice, this time pitched to a normal timbre floated his way, tinged with amusement. "A boss and his secretary?"

Shane laughed, waving away his girlfriend's concerns. "Oh, please, you're just doing the secretary thing till you finish your doctorate, then I'm hiring you."

Samantha Aimes, employed secretary, doctorate student, and fellow child prodigy who looked as though she belonged in print ads, not slaving away in a lab pouted slightly. "So why prolong the inevitable? Not to sound snooty or anything, but this is slightly demeaning to my intellectual abilities."

"Because its company policy written by my father," Shane explained. "And as archaic as it may be, it makes sense. We at TI hire the best, and the best must be qualified."

Samantha only rolled her eyes, the move more playful than sardonic. "And then we progress into another category of cliched," she joked, "an employer and her boss."

Shane grinned, shrugging. "Oh, honey, how you fuel the fantasy..."

Sam only rolled her eyes again, physically turning him around, swatting at his hand as it tugged on her ponytail. "Go, you nut! You don't ask me to forward your calls to Jason for no reason, so get your butt moving on whatever it is you have to do."

Shane chuckled, leaning over the desk to press a kiss to her lips, not caring who saw. "Dinner at my parents' tonight?"

Sam bit her lip, the thought of dining with the family still a bit daunting even after almost a year of dating. Still, she nodded shyly, a gesture well worth it as she was treated to that Bartowski grin that made countless females swoon. Shaking herself from her Shane-induced stupor, she waved her hands at him as the phone blinked. "Go, already."

With a final grin, Shane obliged, striding towards the elevator up to the roof where a chopper was waiting. The moment, the doors closed, the happy-go-lucky technology magnate disappeared and Agent Bartowski materialized. Whipping off his glasses, he stuck them into his breast pocket, ruffling his hair from its styled side-part to fall naturally across his forehead in the slight wave. He shucked his jacket, tie, and dress shirt, leaving him in a t-shirt that he covered with a bullet-proof vest. Cocking his firearm, he slid it into its relegated slot just in time for the elevator doors to open.

Jogging to the helicopter, he boarded to find his team waiting for him. Handing him his headset, he was saluted sharply by his second, Captain Andre Mills of the NSA by way of the US Army. "Agent Bartowski."

Shane nodded his reply, whirling a finger to indicate takeoff. "Let's make this a quick one, guys. I have the Morimoto company on hold, and God knows I shouldn't really have the right to."

The round of chuckles screamed familiarity as Shane addressed their base with a smile. "Einstein to Lancelot, ready when you are."

"This is Lancelot." The familiar voice wafted through the communications link. "Drop time estimate, two minutes and counting." There was a pause, and Shane could practically feel the smile on the other end.

"Go get 'em, Shane."

"Thanks, Dad."

"And Shane?"

Shane stifled a groan at the second voice, sure to accompany the first. "Don't forget extra mags."

He shot a dirty look at the snickers coming from his team before replying in a voice just short of a petulant whine. "Yes, Mom..."

_And cut! Hope you liked that one! I threw in a few shoutouts to previous Chuck episodes to give a sense of the full circle alluded to in the title and the events in the chapter. Hope you all liked those. Next, I'm probably gonna have the Neil chapter, just because I definitely hit an inspiration skid with how I'm going about it. I won't give it away (of course, unless I've already done so...) but I will not be introducing an original character for the love interest of Neil. I obviously can't tell you who it is, but I can tell you that it will not be Carina and it will probably be fairly controversial. Hopefully, I'll write it in a way that has you all rooting for the pairing, but I certainly won't be offended if that isn't the case. Hopefully you all will like the chapter regardless. And for Casey, his other half will more than certainly be Ilsa, and the conversation with Maddie will not be as cliched as "Maddie gets a crush, is crushed with Casey finding a girl, acts bratty, sits Ilsa down to talk to her, and eventually warms up to her." I'd like to think I've written Maddie as a bit more shrewd than that to fall for that type of thing. _

_So, as usual, until next time..._

_Roxy_


	15. Chuck vs the Redemption, Part I

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

**Rating:** _T_

**Timeline:** _Takes place in 2015, the twins are two._

**Summary: **_They figured it would happen sometime. There was no way they figured it would happen like this…_

**Alternate Characters:**

_Nicholas James Grayson - Neil's older brother, born 1979; Stanford University, Class of 2001._

**NOTE:** _This has come to my attention for the last few chapters, and I thought it worth mentioning, but if you haven't noticed, many elements of Parenthood have diverged from the "canon" set in Sensory Perception. I don't know if I have mentioned this previously, but I've decided to start incorporating themes that have been . Therefore, things like Jack Burton, Graham recruiting Sarah, and Jill's story arc and escape, the Awesomes, Stephen Bartowski, etc. are going to make their way (if they haven't already) into the Parenthood universe. Just to avoid confusion..._

Background on Neil Grayson

Born: Neil Patrick Grayson, July 2, 1985 in Bangor, Maine, raised in Huntington Beach, California.

Parents: Patrick and Nicolette Grayson

Siblings: Nicholas James Grayson

Education: Archbishop Paulson Academy (fictional), Class of 2001, and Yale University, Class of 2005.

_Oh, goodness! I am so so so so SO sorry about the extreme lateness of this chapter. There are a few reasons not to be of any excuse whatsoever: 1) planning my wedding is honestly going crazy! Who knew there was so much to do?! 2) I wrestled with actually going through with this chapter as I wasn't sure if it was where I wanted to go with it, and 3) It's so frigging long! But enough of my apologies! Here is the chapter centered around our lovely Agent Grayson. And, as promised, the entrance of a love interest so that Neil doesn't get left out. Like I mentioned before, I do have to admit I was extremely hesitant in choosing this particular character just for the fairly controversial nature that she presents. I'm not gonna disillusion myself in thinking that every single reader is going to be particularly receptive to this pairing, but hopefully I've written it in a manner that is firstly believable and secondly tolerable at least. I know that this character is definitely gonna bring out the gamut in opinions, but hopefully you all like it._

_Oh, and I apologize how massive this is. I didn't think it would turn out to be like a mini-movie, but it kind of did. Therefore, I'll be posting this in three parts._

**Chapter 14**

_Chuck vs. the Redemption, Part I_

_a.k.a._

_Chuck vs. the "Trendy, Yet Discreet"_

There were times that Neil Grayson stopped to take a step back and wonder how he got to this point. When he was a kid, he had been mesmerized by art in its many forms. He wanted to be the next Mozart, composing pieces that made people cry with joy and their hearts soar with elation, or a less eclectic version of Walt Whitman, extolling the beauties of a harmonious relationship with nature. He had taken the obligatory music classes, becoming proficient in the piano, guitar, and slightly versed in the violin and taken as many English classes as he could, only to commit to the CIA after high school. How eclectic artisan gave way to superspy...that was a different story altogether. He wasn't sure that he was meant for this life of espionage, but in some odd way, it fit. It seemed like a short while ago that he was pushing papers at Langley, scooping up the occasional assignment that required his talents concerning languages and speech and keeping an eye out for a big break that would give him the more adventurous assignments. Then Chuck Bartowski came along, saving the one person that meant the world to Neil. The director had been generous enough to keep him informed with the mission, and when he heard that Chuck had been successful, undergoing almost two days of torture in the process, Neil had his bargaining chip. That and an intense desire to payback the man who had saved his sanity combined with a rather potent talent with linguistics gave him a one-way ticket to Team Chuck. Who knew even Director Graham was as susceptible to pretty words as the next Joe Schmoe?

Since Sarah Walker had not been seen around Langley for a good while, people had started talking, wondering what assignment had taken their stud agent away for so long. The details of the nature of Team Chuck had long been classified from the rest of the agency, the specifics were on a strictly need to know basis. But the murmurs around the Company noted the presence of star agent Sarah Walker as well as NSA wrecking ball John Casey. The third member of the team was also earning a name for himself in their circles. He was often referred by different aliases, but one that seemed to be used the most often was Charles Carmichael. To have two top agents from different agencies on the same team provided enough speculation to conclude that whatever their assignment entailed, it was surely a huge deal. Being on this team certainly would be a career-maker. Neil wasn't quite sure he knew what he was getting into when he browbeat Graham into assigning him to Team Chuck, but if there was one thing he had learned from his time with them, no day was ever uneventful. He looked at the picture frame just to the right of his computer, boasting the extended Bartowski family photo. When he had first taken the job, he had expected a Bryce Larkin clone: coiffed, suave, elegant. What he got was six-feet, three-inches of curly-haired Nerd Herd. It wasn't until he had gone on a mission with the team that he saw what all the fuss was about. Nerd Herd had skills, and when Neil stepped in to help translate the demands of an Afghani, successfully stalling the man until Casey had a chance to crack him over the skull, he realized he had found his place among Team Chuck. And even better, he found himself a second family.

Neil leaned back in his desk chair, clothed in his work-week usual of a dress shirt and tie combination beneath a v-neck sweater. It had been a fairly slow day with Chuck taking care of his important appointments in the beginning of the week, leaving the latter portion open for more casual administrative things. Neil grasped the bridge of his square-framed glasses, nudging them further up his nose. He didn't need them really, but they suited his purposes of blending into the background. He returned his attention to Chuck's datebook, penciling in a meeting with the latest development team for the new TI product, a 3D video game system, subsequently entering it into his BlackBerry before rolling his chair back from the desk to stretch out his legs.

His eyes drifted back to the door of his office where, just to his right, Erin Downey, part of TI's media team, was saying goodbye to her boyfriend. The touching farewell did nothing to Neil but remind him just how lonely his own social life was. Apart from Chuck, Sarah, Casey, Ellie, Devon, Morgan, and Anna, he really didn't have that many other friends. He had kept in sparse contact from his few close friends from high school and college, but so many things revolved around, well, work both with TI and Team Chuck. His last girlfriend was sophomore year of college, and he had gone on few dates since. Ellie had tried to set him up with a few of her colleagues, but that turned out as well as Chuck's experience did. All of the women were beautiful and obviously intelligent, but it just didn't fit. Something was missing. It was weird, though. It seemed as though every single doctor, nurse, whatever, on staff at the hospital where Ellie and Devon worked was attractive. He idly wondered if was one of the things considered in the hiring process or it was just general byproduct of LA. But that was an irrelevant thought.

"Neil?"

Neil smiled at the sight of Chuck's secretary hovering in the doorway. "Hey, Joyce."

She held out a small stack, entering his office. "You have some mail."

"Thanks."

Neil flipped through the envelopes, setting aside the bills when he saw the familiar envelope from New Haven. Smiling to himself, he remembered that his ten-year reunion was a couple days away in Connecticut. He had received the invitation a while in advance and responded fairly quickly, reserving his spot as well as another two, knowing at least one would be for Casey as security detail. He slit open the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers, one of which held the itinerary for the weekend's events, starting on Thursday. Knowing he was probably going to miss most of the extraneous events, he scrolled down to Saturday where the class dinner was scheduled. His eyes settled on the list of speakers, focusing on the keynote that was etched to the bottom.

Dr. Helena Graves.

Neil cocked his head. That name sounded familiar, tickling something within his innate spy sense that urged him to explore this. Going off his gut instinct, he pulled up a window on his computer, typing in the name in the search engine. The results brought back nothing too suspicious, just some general accomplishments - and there were quite a few - that painted her as the usual philanthropic brilliant scientist. Neil scratched the scruff and stubble decorating his face. That feeling still nagged him, and he had to follow up with it. Pulling up another window, this one connecting to the CIA database, he entered the name into the search engine. The results garnered were much more...appropriate to his feeling. Printing out the findings, he rushed over to Chuck's office where he was in a deep discussion with Sarah, the twins playing in their spot in the corner.

Neil leaned in the doorway, knocking on the opened door. "Chuck, man, sorry to interrupt - Hey, Sarah - but we have a problem."

Chuck frowned, knowing those words never turned out well for them. "What kind of problem?"

"I have something that might interest you." He held out his findings. "You know I'm going to my reunion this weekend. I was going through my mail when I received the itinerary of events. I noticed this." Neil pointed at the name embossed at the end of the itinerary.

"Dr. Helena Graves," Chuck read, eyebrows lifting as the name registered.

"She's gonna be the keynote speaker for the night at the class dinner," Neil explained. "The name sounded familiar in a more significant context than something offhand so I Googled it. Nothing crazy, just your normal philanthropic scientist. But then I had one of those tickling gut feelings and ran the name through the system, and that's when I found some irregularities."

Chuck's brow furrowed as the flash finished. "No wonder this sounds familiar," he remarked. "She's been suspected of working with North Korea for years, siphoning formulas and whatnot for weapons. And, according to our intel, she's been suspected of developing new kinds of biochemical weapons for a long time. Something tells me they aren't quite for the US."

"And the Intersect data is definitely backing that," Sarah remarked.

Neil huffed a suffering sigh. "How is it that we have this innate ability to make the most mundane things into the next mission?" Neil bemoaned. "Why can't these incidences be purely coincidental?"

Sarah smirked. "You should know by now nothing is completely coincidental when it comes to us."

"Hey, man, look on the bright side, at least there's no way yours will be as traumatic as Sarah's…ow!" He shot a dirty look at his wife who countered with an equally scathing one, shaking his head.

"Brutal!"

"Yeah, well, considering our odds, I'd say it's more than likely I'll be getting the same amount of action," Neil responded.

A knock sounded as Casey stuck his head in the doorway, bearing an expression of slight fear that was more than slightly out of place on his normally visage. His three teammates knew that only the brass could possibly elicit that sort of reaction, and Casey confirmed that suspicion with his next statement.

"Briefing. Beckman and Graham are freaking out."

Chuck swallowed hard as Casey came in, closing the door and flicking the switch right by the lights before taking his place to the left of Chuck Neil stood to Chuck's left with Sarah rounding out the rest of the team. Immediately, a set of screens covered the windows beside the door, barring the inside of Chuck's office from view. The twins barely flinched as they were encased in a soundproof, clear booth where their parents were able to keep an eye on them. A similar set of screens lowered over the bay windows behind Chuck's desk before flickering slightly. The team unconsciously straightened as the familiar sight of Beckman seated with Graham hovering over her shoulder.

Without so much as a salutation, Beckman launched into their briefing, the harried tone belying her always poised appearance. "Lucy Diamond is back in the states."

Chuck's eyes narrowed as the flash registered. "Wait, the woman the newspapers have been dubbing the modern-day Robin Hood?"

"Precisely." Team Chuck's attention was drawn to a profile showing a list of vitals about one of the world's most notorious criminals.

"Lucy Diamond," Graham introduced with little fanfare. "Real name, unknown. She popped up about five years ago before moving her operations steadily eastward and is characterized by her call sign: a single, flawlessly-cut diamond. Not much is known about her; we are not even able to provide you with visual evidence as she takes great pains to ensure that she is never seen. Any information we have is anecdotal at best, but what we do know is that she tends to be very specific in whom she targets."

"Modern-day Robin Hood is correct," Beckman continued. "Lucy Diamond dabbles in a bit of everything, specializing in theft. However, the institutions she hits always share a common characteristic. They are companies or corporations working beneath the guise of a legitimate front. She keeps the profit of her theft, allotting a bit to various charities, but the responsible parties are turned in to the authorities with evidence for convictions."

"Really robbing from the rich to give to the poor, then," Chuck mused with an air of slight amusement. "I seriously hope that she doesn't target TI anytime soon."

Sarah huffed out a laugh. "Considering we are a completely legitimate and respectable company, I don't think you have to worry about that, babe."

A throat clearing brought the pair back to the matter at hand, not escaping a Casey snort.

"So why is she such a high-priority case?" Neil ventured. "From the looks of it, she's doing more help than harm."

"For as much as her dealings have benefited the United States, Lucy Diamond still leads operations in gun-running and smuggling as well as gambling rings all over the country," Beckman answered. "As of 2012, she moved her operations to largely overseas. Because of this shift to a more international market, she is now wanted in over ten countries."

Graham took over, gesturing to a screen. "Our intel suggests that Miss Diamond is back in town to meet this man," a different profile flashed onto the screen showing a fairly attractive blonde man, his expression fierce in appearance, "Vladislav Mikhailov. Ex-KGB, now freelance assassin. Their meet is supposedly at Les Deux Amours tonight."

"The trendy yet discreet restaurant," Sarah commented. She turned to her husband. "Why haven't you taken me there?"

"Do you _want_ me to flash on every other criminal in LA?" Chuck deadpanned. "There is a reason for that description, you know."

Sarah inclined her head. "Good point."

"We need your team to run surveillance on the meet," Graham rumbled out. "Find out what Lucy Diamond is up to."

"Be careful," Beckman cautioned. "Three attempts have been made already to apprehend her. All have failed. No person has faced her and lived to tell about it. We do not know what she is capable of."

With that lovely piece of encouraging information, Graham and Beckman signed off, leaving all three members of Team Chuck to stare at the blank screen.

Chuck frowned at his three companions. "So what would an elusive criminal mastermind want with a Russian-trained killer?"

Casey huffed out another snort. "If we have to tell you that, Bartowski, you're dumber than we thought."

- - -

Neil leaned against the railing high above the dining floor of Les Deux Amours, his espionage ensemble of a black, long-sleeved shirt and black slacks allowing him to blend into the shadows as the rest of Team Chuck found themselves scattered throughout the restaurant. Casey worked the floor as a bartender with Chuck and Sarah stationed in the van.

Neil glanced down at his watch, noting the time on the square face with interest. Intel suggested that Diamond was set to meet Mikhailov at 1800 hours. As of that moment, she was almost twenty minutes late. Neil recoiled back as a sudden presence dropped down beside him, and he found himself looking into the eyes of Special Agent Rob Matthau of the FBI.

"Dude, what are you doing here?"

Matthau adjusted himself in his harness, cocking an eyebrow. "Aw, c'mon, man, you think you're the only ones after Lucy Diamond?"

Matthau gestured to the area around them, and Neil rolled his eyes at the sight of the FBI and Homeland Security littering the high rise of the restaurant. Even a team from that new start-up agency that consisted of plaid-clad women was stationed on a weird swing-like contraption a bit to his right.

"C'mon, Matthau, we called dibs a long time ago!"

Matthau shook his head. "Hey, man, you guys are already responsible for half of maximum security in most of the federal joints. Give us a shot at the glory, why don't you?"

Neil smirked. "How about you actually do your job and earn the glory yourself?"

"It ain't fair," Matthau whined petulantly. "You have the three best agents in the intelligence community."

"Hmm..." Neil feigned consideration. "A whole agency against a team of four. Yeah, real sucky odds."

"Whatever," Matthau dismissed. "This one's ours. But, dude, don't worry. We'll give you a shout-out when we nab Diamond."

Neil rolled his eyes as Matthau winked and retracted himself back up to wherever he came from, returning his attention to the floor. Mikhailov was still seated alone, perusing the menu as he idly stroked the goatee decorating his chin.

"Do you think she's not gonna show?"

Chuck's stuttering laugh sounded through the comm. "She made her way all the way across the ocean to meet this guy. She'll show."

"What do you think?" Neil speculated. "Job?"

"I'll give you two guesses," Casey rumbled as he rotated away from the bar, passing a pair of martinis to a waiter.

There was a rustling as Chuck and Sarah registered something from the van, and Sarah's voice rang through their frequency. "Alright, guys, showtime. We have an unidentified female making her way to Mikhailov."

"Sarah? Vitals."

Sarah paused as their program ran a scan over Lucy Diamond. "We're looking around five feet, seven inches with dark hair. That's all I have. The view's kind of obscured."

"Neil?"

Neil ran a precursory eye over their target, seeing nothing that they hadn't already established. "Nope, nothing besides that. I'm not getting an angle on her face."

"Casey?"

"Negative on my end," came the grumble. "The giant at table three's blocking my view."

Diamond had her back to Neil, her posture screaming discomfort as she eased herself into the chair across from the assassin. The murmurings of their conversation were too quiet for him to pick up so he appealed to the couple in the van. "Chuck, Sarah, what are they talking about?"

"It's pretty bad," Chuck breathed out. "They're talking about killing. Who to kill. How to kill."

"Geeze," Neil winced. "And this is just the small talk?"

There was some more rustling as Chuck moved within the van. "Here, let me adjust a few things so you can pick up more."

Neil listened carefully as a slight static sounded before the conversation below became clear. "Nice, Chuckles. Good stuff."

"Hey, man, quick question."

Neil jumped, nearly falling to the ground as Rob Matthau dropped down beside him again. "Matthau!" He poked an emphatic finger towards the proceedings on the dining room floor. "Dude, not the time."

Matthau waved a negligent hand. "Aw, c'mon, they're just talking."

"Yeah. Just talking about something that could be pertinent," Neil shot back.

Matthau fished in the pocket of his uniform for a moment, holding out a small object. "Look, it's really quick. Can you use your superspy skills or whatever and tell me what this is?"

Neil pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a heavy breath before allowing his eyes to flick over to the tiny gadget and recognized it almost immediately. "EM-50 listening device best suited for short-range transmissions."

There was a slight squeak from the harness as Matthau started in surprise. "Are you sure?"

Neil sighed and nodded absently, still trying to pick out anything that could be important in the conversation between the two career criminals. "It's one of Casey's favorites."

Matthau scratched his head in confusion. "Uh, you barely looked at it."

"I'm sure," Neil retorted tightly.

"How?"

Neil bit out a scathing retort, choosing instead to point out the obvious. "The little numbers on the side?"

Matthau paused, his eyes alternating from the listening device to Neil, the other man still observing the dining pair beneath them intently. "Really?"

Neil nodded shortly. "Yeah."

Matthau frowned, turning over the device in his palm. In his haste to confirm Neil's assessment, he mishandled the tiny gadget, the listening device tumbling from his grasp. With a hissed growl, Neil lunged forward, the small gadget just escaping his reaching fingers. Neil's eyes followed its traitorous descent with growing, increasing dread as it plummeted down, down, down until it plopped right onto Lucy Diamond's plate. He rested his head against the railing, observing Diamond's understandably suspicious confusion. It was quite possible she had never dined at Les Duex Amours, but he was pretty certain she was aware little listening devices didn't come as an accoutrement with the house salad.

Sure enough, she traced the path of the gadget's descent back over her shoulder up to where Neil stood with Matthau hanging at his side. Both criminals reached for hidden weapons. Instinctively, Neil drew his Springfield XDM, vaguely recognizing Matthau do the same. They seemed to be locked in a strange standoff, with neither making a move for fear of taking the first shot. Neil gripped his weapon tighter, the two-tone color of black and silver contrasting against his skin, finger flirting with the trigger. Beside him, Matthau seemed to be trembling slightly, his finger anxiously curling against his own trigger. Neil's eyes narrowed as both Mikhailov and Diamond tensed but made no further move to draw. They seemed to be waiting just as anxiously. From his perch by the bar, Casey watched the exchange, unable to do anything from where he was.

Despite the obvious action, the rest of the restaurant continued on their business, oblivious to the happenings in the middle of the room. At table seven, a champagne cork popped, the sound resonating like a gunshot and spooking Matthau, who squeezed off a reflexive shot that crashed harmlessly into the wine glass in front of Lucy Diamond. The shot was the catalyst that sparked the melee. Mikahilov returned fire, bolting back from the table and over to some cover amidst the fleeing patrons. Matthau, eager to get into the mess he had caused, released his harness, sending him down onto the dining room floor, shooting the entire way. From his cover, Neil cursed the turn of events before poking his head over the railing. On the restaurant floor, a gun battle raged as the team of Diamond and Mikhailov held off the barrage of fire from the various government agents getting into the action. With a silent prayer up to the higher powers thanking them for the invention of parkour, he braced his hands on the railing and hopped over. He landed atop of an archway decorating the restaurant, steadying himself for the barest of moments before backflipping onto the second floor of the dining level. Running across the railing, he cut a path parallel to the action below before cartwheeling down to the ground level, rolling to a crouch right behind an overturned table.

The teaming of the two criminals had obviously dissolved as Mikhailov sprinted towards the entrance amidst the rush of patrons. Diamond, however, had snatched up a tray cover, the solid metal fending off stray bullets as she disappeared out a side door.

"I'll go after her," Neil hissed as Casey poked his head up from behind the bar, gun at the ready. "You clean up here."

Casey gave his assent with a curt nod. "Grayson!" Neil rotated slightly, still moving back in the direction Diamond had taken. "Don't get killed!"

Neil only cocked his weapon, a smirk highlighting his features. "I'll try."

- - -

Neil sprinted out the side door of the restaurant towards what seemed to be a storage unit. Taking a moment to psych himself up, he readied his gun, yanking open the door. He blinked as he found himself in a dimly lit room, stacked high with cardboard boxes filled with various amenities one would expect would be in a restaurant's storage space. Weapon brandished, he stalked through the area, careful to tread on the balls of his feet, boxed in on either side by various crates and bins. He turned the corner, seeing the stretch of concrete floor before him and just beyond that, a door marked clearly with a radiant exit sign. Deducing that was probably Lucy Diamond's destination, he sprinted down the length of the floor towards the door. Just as he eclipsed the weird valley of cardboard boxes, he collided with another solid object, certainly not a cardboard box but another moving person.

Thinking he had hit an unsuspecting employee, Neil apologized profusely, reaching for his gun. "Oh, wow, I'm so sorry."

"No, I'm really sorry," came the return.

Neil lofted his head to find a pair of gorgeous chocolate-colored eyes staring at him through the slit in her bangs that fell slightly haphazardly onto her forehead from a rather attractive tan face. It was a woman. An amazingly beautiful woman. Who, at the moment, looked very reminiscent to a deer in the headlights.

"Oh, shit." Standing quickly, she snatched up a gun he hadn't noticed was lying by her hand, straightening to whip the barrel towards him.

"Whoa!" On reflex, Neil grabbed his own gun, leveling it on the woman a bit shorter than he was, moving in a circle to match the woman's own orbit around him. "Easy, ma'am. No need for hostilities."

"Hostile, who's hostile?"

Neil only continued his stalking rotation. "Uh, the gun pointed at my chest could say otherwise."

They gradually slowed to a halt, weapons still trained on one another. "Looks like I'm in a similar situation."

"Good point." He trailed off as his eyes were drawn down to a sparkle on the ground. It was a single, flawlessly cut diamond. The call sign of one notorious supervillian known as Lucy Diamond.

He voiced the prerequisite answer to his own question. "You're Lucy Diamond."

"And you're obviously with the government," she countered. "Are you gonna start reading my rights or something?"

"That would be protocol," Neil agreed, slightly thrown at the conversational tone this standoff was taking. "But strangely redundant at this point." His eyes flicked from the firearm at his chest to the tanned face, back to the gun. "Not to mention slightly irreverent since you are neither disarmed nor detained in any manner."

He squeezed his eyes shut, visibly warring with himself before opening them again, meeting Diamond's expectant gaze. "Look, here's the thing..."

"Yeah?" she prompted.

"I'm _really_ not up for getting shot today."

She cocked her head in concession. "Yeah, wasn't quite on my agenda, either."

"Nice to see you agree." He cocked his head towards the barrel. "So, uh, why don't you put your gun down?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Diamond spat back.

"Well, I'm a...fed. So, technically, I'm more trustworthy," he explained.

She only raised an eyebrow. "Trustworthy?"

"Not to shoot," he answered.

"And why would you think I'd shoot?"

Neil mirrored her expression, cocking his eyebrow. "Once again, the gun at my chest says otherwise."

"Yeah, well, I was just minding my own business on some stupid blind date when three different government agencies plus a group of women masquerading as naughty Catholic schoolgirls decided to rain shit all over me," she snarled back.

The absurdity of the situation gave him pause, and he lowered his gun slightly. "Hold on, you were on a blind date?"

"Whatever," she growled with a toss of her head. At his incredulous expression, she bristled with indignation. "What?"

"Nothing," Neil insisted. The words were barely out of his mouth before he reconsidered, tilting his head slightly. "It's just...who would have thought? A Russian-trained assassin asks a criminal mastermind out not for a job but on a blind date? I mean, yeah, it sounds super suspicious in a dossier, but kinda ridiculous when explained in the correct context."

Diamond seemed to disregard his tangent apart from one fact. "He was a Russian assassin?"

Neil's eyes danced from one side to another in confusion. "You didn't know that?"

"Would I be asking you if I did?" she posed. "I mean the accent was a pretty dead giveaway for the Russian part, and I knew he killed people, but I didn't know he exclusively killed people...Geeze. Last time Scud sets me up."

Neil smirked. "Let me guess, you don't vet your dates."

She seemed to find the statement ridiculous. "And you do?"

Neil inclined his head slightly. "I'd have to have dates for that to apply."

Diamond's perpetual smirk seemed to widen. "And what occupies Mr. Fed's time when he isn't chasing after innocently dining criminals? EverQuest?"

Neil's brows drew together slightly. EverQuest. That sounded strangely familiar. A strange correlation materialized in his brain, one that seemed weirdly relevant to his current predicament. He remembered a story that mentioned EverQuest. One that Chuck had told him a while back. It had occurred his first year at Stanford when he had met who knew a girl who loved EverQuest. And her name was...

Neil's eyes snapped to the woman across from him, the realization beginning its descent to his brain. He pictured her slightly less tan with a pair of round-framed glasses perched on her nose.

"Wait a second." He looked closer, his eyes widening as recognition dawned on him. He huffed out an exasperated breath "Aw, c'mon! You're Jill Roberts, too? Geeze, you couldn't settle for being a singular person of interest for the government?"

Her eyes narrowed, gun wavering slightly. "And who wants to know?"

He lowered his own weapon. "Neil Grayson. I work with Chuck."

She stayed suspicious, keeping the firearm trained at his chest.

"Chuck? Chuck Bartowski? He's here?"

"Yeah." Neil bobbed his head from side to side, reconsidering that statement. "Well, about fifty feet from the restaurant in a black, unmarked van."

"So, CIA?"

Neil nodded his affirmation. "Yeah."

"Well, we're quite at an impasse, aren't we?"

Again, Neil nodded shortly. "That we are."

Jill quirked a grin, seemingly amused at the rather bizarre turn of events. "What are you gonna do, Agent Grayson? Arrest me?"

He would give her this, Neil decided as he ruminated over his options, she was rather enchanting. Something told him she had duped quite a few men with that sly smirk coupled with those sparkling sepia eyes.

Neil shook himself from his reverie, forcing his focus back on the matter at hand. "You know, I should..." his eyes twinkled slightly as a thought came to him. "But something tells me you'd be much more useful not in handcuffs. You're still a biochemist, aren't you?"

"As if I could forget it all," she remarked with a smirk. "I might be a bit rusty though."

Neil returned the smirk. "Well, then, we just might have something for you, Dr. Roberts." He tilted his head in a slight challenge. "You up for dabbling in the legitimate side of things again?"

Jill only regarded him closely. "What's in it for me?"

Neil cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, c'mon, you can't expect me to work out all the logistics with a gun leveled at my chest, can you?"

"You would really suck in an interrogation," she mused.

Neil rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying the prospect of a bullet ejected into an extremely vital organ is kinda hindering the thought process at the moment."

Jill returned the eye roll, obligingly lowering her weapon. "Happy?"

Neil allowed his lazy smile to languidly stretch across his face. "Immensely."

Jill regarded him suspiciously. "So what exactly would you need my expertise for?"

Neil ran a hand through his hair. "Well, let's just say this isn't the most ideal venue for this sort of conversation, not to mention I need to corroborate it with my team, so why don't you just come with me?"

Jill's stare narrowed slightly as she gauged his intent. Apparently seeing something that appeased her, she nodded shortly. "Fine."

Neil, however, wasn't exactly so trusting despite his offer. "No tricks?"

Jill only gave him a look that he rolled his eyes at. "Right...criminal mastermind. There's always tricks."

Neil sighed. "Okay, so this goes against every federally-trained bone in my body, but I'm not going to put you in handcuffs or anything. We don't want to arouse suspicion, there's enough people after you as it is. I'm gonna trust you not to bolt on me. You think you can make it all the way to my car without turning this into a _Fast and Furious_-like chase?"

"I'll try my hardest," Jill deadpanned.

Neil out the exit, swiftly moving through the still-frantic patrons towards the black SUV inconspicuously parked on the sidewalk. He winced as the wig in his ear sounded with Chuck's concerned voice.

"Neil, you okay? We lost communication for awhile."

"Yeah, Chuck. I'm fine," Neil assured him. "I'll meet you back at the house. I have something that might interest you."

"If it's either a Russian assassin or a notorious thief, I'm plenty interested, dude."

Neil glanced over at his companion, sharing an inside joke with himself. "Well, I'm sure I can procure something that can capture your attention either way."

Needless to say, the drive back to the Bartowski mansion was awkward, the only excitement coming from a rather harried phone call from Jill's right hand man, only known as Scud. Neil glanced over to his unwitting companion, unsure what to make of her. Between the revelation she was the notorious thief known as Lucy Diamond as well as the rather infamous first love of Chuck Bartowski's life, Neil wasn't quite sure what to make of her. He simply put his eyes to the road and drove. In contrast, Jill's eyesight strayed out the window as Neil took them further and further into the outskirts of town. The diamond thief tensed slightly, flicking a gaze to her captor and back out to the winding pavement.

"Uhm, you're not taking me to like a deserted highway to dump my cold, dead body, are you?"

Neil shook his head. "No, not quite. The house is really out of the way."

"That's not a house," Jill stuttered out as the Bartowski homestead came into view. "That's a whole other country."

Neil chuckled. "He's graduated a bit from the Nerd Herd and living with Ellie and Awesome."

"Yeah," Jill breathed out. "I'll say."

Neil punched in the entrance code, leading Jill through the house to the study where he met Chuck in the lair. The tall nerd lit up at the sight of him.

"Please tell me you have Lucy Diamond. I mean, I'll totally settle for Mikhailov, but dude, that would be awesome if you have Diamond."

Neil smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Well, not per se..."

"Chuck, meet Lucy Diamond."

Chuck practically trembled in anticipation until the extremely familiar figure moved into the light. He paused, looking from his wife to his ex-girlfriend.

Whoa.

Awkward.

"Uh…_Jill_?!"

The CIA agent-turned Fulcrum agent-turned unwitting ally-turned notorious thief smiled hesitantly, wringing her hands before her. "Surprise?"

Chuck swallowed hard. "Hey-yo..."

_And…to be continued! Well, there is the first part of this massive three-part chapter, a bit of an introduction and backstory until we get into the mission and the good stuff. If any of you have seen the movie D.E.B.S. starring Jordana Brewster, you'll notice that some of this chapter is loosely based on the plot of that film. Ha, I honestly thought it was hilarious, but I'm not gonna disillusion myself in thinking everyone will share my humor. Anyway, still to come: the mission and aftermath of the revelation that Jill is back. I hope this doesn't disappoint…Until next time – which shouldn't take as long this time, I swear…_

_Roxy _


End file.
